The Black Parade
by terrablaze
Summary: Five high school misfits form a band and together face the difficulties of making it big, falling in and out of love, and dealing with loss.  Sounds cheesy, but I didn't know how else to say it. Based/Inspired by the songs of MCR. Rated M for language.
1. Your dreams and your hopeless hair

**NOTE: The song lyrics used in here are written by and the property of My Chemical Romance. I, or my characters, do not own them or anything belonging to My Chemical Romance. They are used solely for fictional purposes. The characters and plot line are my own.**

**One **

It was the annual battle of the bands competition, and the next to last band was taking the stage. More had turned out than last year after the winner had a single produced with Jason King, a well-known record producer. The music started.

_Well it rains and it pours when you're out on your own_

_If I crash on the couch can I sleep in my clothes…_

The band looked every inch the rock stars they were trying to be. The five members were all dressed in some form of black, mostly tight clothing.

The girl at the microphone looked nervous at first, but slowly seemed to warm up as she got to the chorus. Her long, black hair hung straight down to the middle of her back. She was wearing high heeled black boots, black shinny tights, a puffed out black mini skirt with gold stripes, and a black tank top. The longest layer of her hair was dyed bright red, as were half of her bangs, providing the only splash of color against all the black.

The other girl, the keyboardist, was wearing pink heels, black skinny jeans, a black tube top and a black cap studded with diamonds matching the one in her nose. Her short pink hair peeked out from under the edges, long bangs covering her face. Her head nodded, bangs shaking, as she rocked out to the beat.

For once, the boys looked as cool as the girls. The drummer simply wore black jeans and a tight black t-shirt, but managed to look super hot in it. The way he twirled the drumsticks in his hands like batons, while still managing to hit every beat probably helped. His messy, curly brown hair fell in his face, and it was a wonder he could still see.

The bassist wore distressed black skinny jeans and a v-neck black shirt with "The Black Parade," their band's name, printed in white letters, across the chest. He had light blonde hair that was cut short, except for one part that hung long in his face, almost like the keyboardist's. He nodded his head and tapped his foot casually, making sure the group stayed on beat. Otherwise he looked calm compared to the rest of them, especially the guitarist.

If people in the crowd thought the rest of the band had been rocking out, they hadn't seen this guy yet. He was wearing gray jeans with a black leather jacket over a plain black shirt. His black hair swooped in his face and out in a many different directions, making him look like he had just rolled out of bed, but it looked _good. _He was on his knees, whacking more than strumming his guitar.

At the end of the song, about half the fans were cheering enthusiastically, the others merely seemed courteous. The record producer in the back looked impressed, although not blown away. The five judges all had different reactions as well. Not that BP cared all that much about them if the record producer liked them. He was the one that could make them famous.

They sat in the dressing room afterwards, anxiously awaiting the results. The top five would be called to the stage and then awards would be presented. If they made it there they were guaranteed at least $50, but the money wasn't what they were really therefore. They were there to get their big break.

"That was good guys, I'm really feeling confident on this one," the singer, Sam, said, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail.

"That's because you weren't looking at the judges the whole time," said the guitarist.

"What's that supposed to mean, Cale?" Sam retorted.

"I just don't think we should get our hopes up."

"I don't know man," Johnny, the drummer said, "I mean, that ancient, white-haired lady who looks like she came out of the frickin' 1800's won't give us good marks, but the other dudes seemed pretty into it. Even the blonde chick who's got pop-singer-who-shits-rainbows written all over her seemed to dig us."

"See?" Sam said, turning to Cale.

"Well I think we're the best," he said, absent-mindedly picking up his guitar, "but you know what happened last year to that band that got labeled as emo."

Sam frowned. It wasn't exactly a secret that the Black Parade thought the emo label put on any band that didn't just sing about happy stuff was total BS. Just because they didn't only sing about sex and drugs and getting drunk…

She was jarred by her thoughts by Liza, the keyboardist. "Sam, Cale, and Johnny, will you three shut the hell up? You're freaking yourselves and all of us out. There's nothing you can frickin' do so just chill!" She spoke good-naturedly, however.

The Black Parade fell silent, until Cale said, "Jesse? You awake man?"

The bassist scrambled up in his recliner. "Hmm? Sure, yeah!"

Cale chuckled. "Alright, dude. Just checking."


	2. Who gives a damn if we lose this war?

**Two**

A stage manager walked in.

"The judges are getting ready to announce the top five finishers. You might want to come backstage." Then, he left.

"See," Johnny said to Cale. "I told you we were good."

"That doesn't mean anything," Cale pointed out. "He probably tells that to all the bands that remotely have a chance."

"Jeez man, lighten up. You're so cynical," Jesse said, walking up behind Cale and massaging his shoulders.

Cale snorted. "Jess, I'm pretty sure that was the biggest word I've ever heard you speak in the twelve years I've known you."

"Have some faith in us," Jesse continued. "Don't you think we can win?"

Cale threw his arms up in the air and gave an exasperated sigh as they walked backstage. "It's not that I don't think we can win, or that I don't believe in us, it's that I don't know if this setting is right for our style! All I'm saying is stay realistic. And don't get your hopes up. But even if this doesn't work out, we've still got plenty of other ways to make it big."

"Yeah, like by actually going to a recording studio," muttered Liza.

"Yeah, _after _high school. We've had this discussion, Liza. Once we're in college, they'll take us more seriously," Sam said.

"That's years away," she complained. "You and Cale and Johnny are only juniors!"

"You guys should just drop out when me and Liza graduate this year," Jesse suggested.

"Ha ha!" Johnny said. "Somehow I don't think _that_ one will go over all that well with Sam's mom."

"Shhh!" Sam said, rolling her eyes, something she found she did a lot more now that she had the band. "They're starting!"

"And now we will invite the top five bands to come onto the stage. Fifth place will receive a cash prize of $50, fourth $75, third $200 and an audition with EZ records, runner-up will receive $300 and an audition, and the winner will receive $500, an audition, and a trip to the recording studio to have a single produced by Jason King. So here, in no particular order, are the top five bands at this year's Battle of the Bands," the announcer said.

"First, the Rockets!"

"Angelic Heavens!" he continued

"Aw blegh! How'd they get in?" Johnny asked.

"Judges must like those Christian-y type bands," Jesse muttered.

"Shhh!" Sam said.

"Thunder!" the announcer said. "Rushing Comets!"

"Who the hell comes up with these names?" Johnny asked.

"Shut up!" said Liza.

"And the Black Parade!" the announcer concluded.

"Ha! No way!" Johnny said, jumping up and down and hugging everyone he could find.

The rest of the band smiled and were giving each other congratulatory hugs when the stage manager said, "You need to go out on the stage."

BP ran out onto the stage to await the judges' verdict. A few people in the crowd were screaming loudly. One boy's voice stood out over the rest.

"Yeah! Way to go baby!" he screamed.

"Looks like boyfriend's here," Liza said to Sam in a teasing tone.

"Oh, um, hi Chase!" Sam waved awkwardly, and a little nervously, giving the audience the impression of her as hardcore, but also a little cute and innocent.

The announcer walked back in with the envelope, and the crowd fell silent. The band members held their breaths. This was what they had been waiting for.

"And here it is, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer said, "the judges' final decision. In fifth place…Angelic Heavens!"

"Whew!" Johnny said over the semi-enthusiastic claps and cheers of the crowd, "'Cuz they definitely sucked!"

"Shhh! Not so loud!" Liza chastised him.

"In fourth place, Thunder!"

There was more clapping and cheering, a little more enthusiastic this time.

"And now, your top three! Third place…Rushing Comets!"

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" Liza squeaked, turning to the band.

"Holy shit, holy shit!" said Johnny.

"Oh man, oh man," breathed Jesse.

"We might actually do it," Cale said, shaking his head. Then he turned to Sam. "Are you okay?" She had been kind of quiet all night, and a little off. But then again, she had been a little off for a few weeks now.

"Yeah, just tired again for some reason," she said. "But it's nothing to worry about! C'mon!" She grabbed Cale and Liza's hands. Jesse put his hands on her shoulders, and Johnny hung on to Cale.

"And now," the announcer said in his very announcer-y voice that BP was beginning to find annoying, "the moment you've all been waiting for. Your champion of this year's Battle of the Bands competition…and winner of $500 and a possible record deal…"

"Just say it already!" Liza hissed.

"…is…the Rockets!"

Confetti burst from the ceiling. The Rockets ran out to center stage and celebrated with the cheering crowd. Chase was booing in the audience, but could barely be heard. A volunteer walked over to Sam and gave her a trophy and an envelope containing the information for their audition and the cash.

"And let's give a big round of applause to our runner-up, the Black Parade!" said the announcer.

"Well," sighed Sam as the band walked off the stage, "we gave it our best."


	3. Phantom to lead you to the Black Parade

**So I know the story's just getting started, like the plots and characters and things, but if you like it or have an opinion and want to review already feel free :]**

**Three **

Sam sat in the white, sterile room of the doctor's office with her mother, Leila, and twelve-year-old sister, Angela. Angela was looking around nervously, and even Leila looked like she didn't want to be there. Sam fidgeted uncomfortably. Hospitals had always been touchy places for them after…

_~seven years earlier~_

"_Hey baby," Sam's father, Shane said weakly. He had seen better days. The chemo was starting to get to him. His thick dark hair, which Sam had been lucky enough to inherit, unlike her siblings, who had gotten their mother's blonde locks, was now gone. _

"_Hey daddy," she smiled, a tear leaking out of her eye. They both knew he didn't have much time left._

"_Sammy, do you remember when I took you to that parade?"_

"_Of course! It's one of my favorite memories," she said, sniffling a little. _

"_Me too. That's where I'm gonna go now, sweetie, I know it. So don't you worry about me. Someday, a long, long time from now, when you're really old, I'll come back for you and we'll go to a parade again, okay?"_

"_Okay, daddy," she said squeezing his hand. _

"_Just promise me one thing, Sam," he said, calling her by her 'grown-up name.' "Promise me you'll do something with your life. Promise me you'll help people, give voices to those who don't have them themselves."_

"_I promise," she said softly._

"_And don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't."_

"_I won't."_

"_Good. I love you, baby," he said, reaching up to touch her cheek._

"_I love you too," she whispered, kissing his forehead. _

_Then the beeping started and her mother and older brother, Bryan, ran in, followed by nurses and doctors. She was shooed out, and Bryan went with her. She was only ten, and didn't entirely know what was going on, but she knew enough to know it wasn't good. Bryan was ten years older than her, and definitely knew what was going on. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Leila came out not soon after, and the look on her face was enough to tell them that their father was gone. _

_Leila was changed after that. Shane had kept her light, now that he was gone, she took everything too seriously. It was finally enough for Bryan. One day Sam heard a knock on her door and Bryan walked in with a suitcase. He told her he was joining the army, and he was sorry for leaving her but he couldn't do it anymore. _

_Sam shed some tears, but she didn't blame him. She was twelve now, and a big girl. Bryan had moved back home to help them out, so she had come to depend on him. But he needed to live his own life. _

_Leila screamed and yelled when he told her he was leaving, but he wouldn't alter his decision. _

"_You are a coward! You're running away from your family because you can't handle being an adult!" _

_Sam thought that was a little harsh, Bryan had been a better parent to her than her mother had been. Her mother hadn't held her when she cried at night. But this wasn't her fight. _

"_I've had it with you! I can't live like this! I'm never coming home!" he screamed._

"_And I'm never speaking to you again! And don't expect your sisters to either!" _

"_I'll do whatever I fucking want!" Sam screamed from the top of the stairs. Her mother and brother turned to stare at her. Cussing was a bad habit she had picked up from her new friends Liza and Jesse. Leila didn't approve of her new best friend, Liza, who was a year older. _

"_Don't fight this now, Sam," Bryan said, turning to their mother. "I'm leaving now. Goodbye." _

_With that he walked out, and Sam was completely alone. _

The doctor walked in. He was probably in his late thirties, sandy-blonde hair graying at the edges. He introduced himself as Dr. James Reed, and proceeded to ask, "How are we doing today?"

"Obviously not fine since I'm in a freakin' doctor's office," Sam mumbled under her breath, but hushed once she got a sharp glare from her mother. If Sam thought they hadn't gotten along when she was younger, they definitely fought now that she was in a "death band," her mother's term, and wore dark clothing all the time. Her mom said Goth like it was a bad thing.

"We're great Dr. Reed," Leila said, a little over-the-top and fake. "Dr. Fisher spoke very highly of you."

Sam's pediatrician had no idea why she was so tired and sluggish all of the time.

"Ah, yes, Cassandra. How is she?" asked Dr. Reed.

Leila opened her mouth to speak, but Sam coughed.

"You must be Samantha," he said, turning to her.

"That's me, Sam," she said with a glance at her mother, "the problem child."

"Well let's see if we can't figure out what's wrong with you," the doctor said.

He did some tests and blood work, the ushered Sam and her family out of the office, telling them he would call as soon as he knew anything.

Sam took a deep breath when they stepped outside. She really hated hospitals or anything doctor-related. Her mother looked down on her and for a second Sam though her mom might actually say something kind and sympathetic. But Leila merely sighed and said, "Let's go."

The car ride was silent. Angela stared out the window the entire time, not saying much. But then again, it wasn't like she said much anyway. Finally Sam, sitting in the passenger seat, broke it. She turned to her mother. "We got second at the Battle of the Bands."

Leila was silent. Then she said, "Do you expect me to be happy for you? You know what I think about your band and friends."

Sam sighed. Liza Buchanan became her best friend after Shane died. Sam's other friends hadn't known what to do, so they sort of left her. Sam had been singing to herself softly in an empty music room when Liza came in, unnoticed. She started playing the piano along with Sam, and it was the beginning of a great friendship. Jesse Way was Liza's other best friend, and a year older, like her, but it wasn't long before the three were hanging out. Soon after, Jesse's neighbor, Cale McKnight joined in their group. Years later, when Johnny Hamilton transferred to their school, the band was completed.

Sure they had influenced Sam, but she didn't think that was a bad thing. Her mom hadn't exactly been there for her to teach her about growing up. At least she had someone, or four someones, to be there for her. And she had her music and songwriting. That helped her get through a lot when she was older.

At least her mom liked Chase, a star baseball player. Secretly Sam thought her mother didn't know what Chase saw in her daughter, but not wanting to pick another fight, she had kept that suspicion to herself.

"Well," Sam said, pushing along as if the last comment didn't sting, "we got an audition at a recording studio."

"Oh," was all Leila said.

"Fine. Liza will be coming to pick me up when I get home. We have to rehearse," Sam snapped turning to stare out the window. She could feel tears starting to leak out the corners of her eyes. Pull yourself together, she thought, don't let her win. She leaned her forehead against the pane and closed her eyes, remembering what her dad had said.

_Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't._

That was what kept her going.


	4. House of Wolves

**Four**

Sam jumped out of the car, eyes stinging, as soon as her mom drove in the driveway. I can't believe she said that, Sam thought. But the sad thing was, she could. It was like she didn't even know her own mother anymore.

And Angela wasn't much company either. The girl rarely spoke. At least she still had contact, however sporadic, with Bryan. Leila had prevented it at first, but once she realized Sam would find some way to work around it, she permitted it.

"Samantha!" her mother said sternly.

"What?" Sam snapped.

Leila sighed. "I don't want you throwing your life away over some stupid band."

"It's not-"

"You think you're going to get famous and be on top of the world, and that's not going to happen. But you know what? You're smart. I don't think that's your goal at all. You just want an excuse to get out of here. You're a coward too. You're a coward like your older brother-"

"Don't call him that," Sam growled, voice low.

"I'll call him what I want. He's my son and it's true! And your stupid little band with its stupid little songs that mean nothing-"

"They mean ev-"

"Stop interrupting me!"

"Will you just fucking listen to me for _once in my life?_" Sam screamed.

Sam ran upstairs to the attic and slammed the door. It was where she went when she needed to be alone and think. It was like her sacred space. Almost all of the songs she wrote had been written in the attic. She felt closer to her dad up there, more inspired.

Sam huddled in a ball and sat there. Too many emotions, she thought, trying to control her breathing. She was the best of anyone she knew at hiding her emotions, but once she got multiple emotions welling up inside her head, it became more difficult to hold everything in. Right now she was shaking, whether it from rage at her mother or sadness, Sam wasn't sure. Probably it was a little of both.

A car horn shook her out of her daze. Sam didn't know how long she had been sitting there. She ran to the window and saw Jesse leaning out the window of his old, battered black Mustang convertible. Liza waved from the passenger seat. A dark green pickup truck pulled in behind them. Johnny stuck his head out the driver's side and yelled, "Yo! Let's get moving Sam, you slowpoke!" She assumed Cale was sitting next to him.

Sam grabbed her notebook and ran down the two flights of stairs. "I'm gone!" she yelled, grabbing her bag slamming the door behind her and not waiting for a response she knew she wouldn't get or wouldn't like. She had to hand it to her mom, despite her disapproval in Sam's lifestyle choices, Leila rarely prohibited Sam from doing what she loved. Not that Sam would've listened, but still…it was nice to know she could.

Sam hopped over the side of Jesse's car, not bothering to open the door. Her face must have betrayed her mood, however, because Liza turned to her and said, "Mother problems?"

One glare from Sam told her she guessed correctly.

"At least she let you out today," Jesse said cheerfully. "Maybe she has a soul after all!"

Sam seemed to ponder this for a few moments before grumbling, "Nope, I don't think so."

They rode the rest of the way in silence. The others were good at detecting when one of them didn't want to talk. At one point, Sam reached in the front and turned the music up so loud that Liza and Jesse were sure they were going to get pulled over and arrested for disturbing the peace. The rearview mirror was shaking from the power of the bass.

But once they pulled in Liza's driveway, all of Sam's anger diffused. She walked next to Liza as they headed into the garage. Liza's parents were extremely supportive of the band's dreams. They let BP store all their equipment in the garage, and even bought them amps and extra microphones with their own money.

When they were younger, before four of them had cars, (Sam's mom never decided to teach her how to drive, sadly leaving her as the only member without reliable transportation), it was the Buchanans that took them and their stuff to gigs. Sam could remember everyone piling into Mrs. Buchanan's car and Mr. Buchanan hooking a trailer to his truck and dragging all their shit wherever they needed it. It put a smile on her face.

"Hey Mrs. B!" Sam called, dropping her bag and notebook on a worktable. Lauren Buchanan was standing in the doorway.

"Hello, Sam," she said warmly. More warmly than her own mother, Sam thought darkly. Feeling the emotions coming back, she swallowed and concentrated on forcing them back down again. "I just wanted to let Liza know that Stacia got in sooner than we expected so she'll be back before practice is over."

"Oh," Sam said, "if we need to cut it short, I'm sure-"

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Buchanan said, cutting her off. "You guys have an audition to get ready for. Although I'm sure if you don't mind an audience, Stacia would love to hear you."

"We don't mind!" Jesse shot up.

Liza rolled her eyes, but said, "Yeah that would be great!" Her older sister Stacia was in her mid-twenties, and working as a model in New York City. Liza had inherited the same gorgeous honey-blonde hair, but unlike her sister, never grew it out. She always kept it chopped short and dyed fluorescent colors.

"Great! I'll let you practice then!"

After she left, Sam turned to Liza and said, "God, why are your parents so awesome?"

Liza gave her a long look and then said softly, "They're basically your parents too."

"Alright," Sam said, "let's rock."

She was glad to be able to start singing. Other than writing her songs, singing was the only time Sam let the emotions fly out. It felt good. Her mother was wrong. She didn't have the band because she wanted to become famous and run away like Bryan. She had the band because it was all she had. The songs were all she had. It was the only time she could be herself and let everything go. And that was why she wasn't going to let anything stop her.

**_~~~Author's Note~~~_**

**_I know the plot hasn't really picked up yet. I thought and thought about how I could get the action started sooner and came to the conclusion that the story just wouldn't have the same effect if you guys, the readers, couldn't see how all the characters interacted with each other and what their lives were like. So I'm sorry if it seems like filler, I promise that, at least in my opinion, it all has value and furthers at least the character development, if not the story itself! _**

**_W/ luv _**

**_~T_**


	5. And you're walking away

_**~Another Note~**_

_**I'm not going to type up all the lyrics whenever there's a song, because I'm going to guess that the majority of the people reading this know the songs anyway, and I think it would disrupt the flow too much, and they aren't my original writings. But I would recomend **_**thinking **_**of the entire song, it should complement the plot nicely. Okay I'll let you get back to reading, sorry!**_

_**~T**_

**Five**

"_Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts…" _

"_Sing it for the world…"_

The Black Parade heard clapping behind them. A gorgeous blonde stood in the driveway.

"Stace!" Liza yelled and ran to hug her sister.

After they broke the hug, Stacia said, "Wow, you guys have gotten really good. Not that you weren't good before, but," she paused, "wow, I can see the improvement."

They looked pleased. It was nice to hear that from a New Yorker, especially a semi-famous one.

Stacia stepped into the garage and hugged Sam, her basically-adopted sister. "Your song writing has gotten amazing," she murmured.

"Thanks, Stace," Sam said.

"So you're getting ready for an audition with a recording studio?" she asked. "How'd you convince Sam to go?"

"Actually, we got a time slot when we got second in Battle of the Bands," Johnny piped up.

"Ah, I see. So how many songs will you play?"

"Three," Cale told her. "The one you just heard, Sing, the song we played at the competition, The Sharpest Lives, and we haven't decided on the third yet."

"Okay, sounds like you guys need some help," Stacia said, smiling. "So what else ya got?"

The band ended up practice an extra hour, until Mr. Buchanan came home, and they still hadn't picked a song, so the Buchanan's cancelled their dinner reservations and ordered pizza instead. While they waited for it to be delivered, Stacia and her parents sat in the garage and listened to song after song, giving their opinion. Pizza arrived, and the Black Parade took a break to eat. They played a few more songs, but nothing stood out to them.

Sam frowned and walked over to her bag. She bent over and picked up her notebook, flipping to a page in the middle and turning it sideways. Johnny hopped over and looked over her shoulder. There were words scribbled in the margins and curling around other words.

"Whatcha doin?" he asked.

Sam was deep in thought. She sighed. "Well, I wrote this song, but I just wrote it for me when I was, uh, upset the other day. We can try it."

"Does it mean something to you?" Cale asked.

"Yeah."

"Then it'll be good. Let's hear it," he said.

"_Well you can hide a lot about yourself…"_

"_It's been eight bitter years since I've been seeing your face…"  
"And you're walking away, and I will die in this place…"_

When she finished singing, a Capella because she only wrote the lyrics, Jesse and Cale wrote the music, everyone was staring at her.

"We don't have to use it," she started, but Jesse cut her off.

"That was fucking amazing!" he said. "I can hear the guitar parts in my head, can't you Cale?"

Cale nodded, still staring at Sam in a knowing way. He had probably guessed her inspiration.

"Should we get started writing then?" Liza asked. She and Johnny always had to help, because Jesse and Cale could only play forms of guitars, but they still did the bulk of the writing.

"Yeah, but maybe I should take Sam home. She's done her part in this song, and her mom's probably pissed we went longer," Cale said.

"I actually didn't say when I would be home, but I probably should get going."

"Dude, I drove you here," Johnny said.

"Gimme your keys," Cale said. "They need you here and I won't be missed for fifteen minutes. Sam doesn't live that far away."

"Fine. But if you wreck my baby, I swear to God," Johnny said, tossing over his keys.

Sam walked over to the Buchanans and hugged them all. "Thanks for cancelling your family dinner to listen to us," she said. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Walker Buchanan, Liza's father, said. "When you all get that recording deal and become rich and famous you can take us out to two dinner to make up for it," he said with a wink.

"You guys are the best," Sam said as she left with Cale. "See you all at school tomorrow," she said to her band.

Jesse made a face and Liza stuck out her tongue. Spring Break was finally over, which meant school. Ugh.

Sam and Cale hopped in Johnny's truck and drove off. They were silent for a few minutes before Cale said, "So do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Sam asked.

"I know it was the five year anniversary of Bryan leaving last week. That song was about him, wasn't it?"

Sam looked down at her hands. "Sort of. I mean, he was the main inspiration, but like most of my songs, I took it further. I mean it's not like I don't get to talk to him every once in awhile."

Cale could tell she was still bitter. He reached over and rubbed her shoulder with one hand. Sam sighed. Liza may be her best friend, but Cale was always the one who remembered things like this. Liza could be a little scatter brained.

They pulled into Sam's driveway and she told Cale goodbye, grabbed her bag, and almost shut the door before remembering to add, "Make sure Jesse brings my notebook back tomorrow!"

"I will," Cale said. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight."

Sam watched him pull out and drive off from her driveway before pulling out her key and opening the door. She never really wanted to go home, and contemplated just sneaking up to her room and hoping her mom didn't notice, but decided against it. Instead she took a deep breath and braved walking into the kitchen. Her mother was putting away dishes.

"I'm home," Sam stated.

"Oh," Leila said. "We just finished dinner."

"I ate at the Buchanan's."

"Good."

Sensing that the conversation was over, Sam turned and started to leave, but was stopped by her mother's voice.

"I'm sorry if you think I'm mean."

Bitch is more like it, Sam thought, but this was the first time she had ever heard her mother acknowledge it, so she kept silent.

"I just don't want you throwing your life away. And you really should think about your wardrobe."

Sam wanted to say there was nothing wrong with her wardrobe, and black was a perfectly fine color, but she only said, "Dad would've wanted me to have the band. He would've been happy for me."

Wrong thing to say. Leila's face grew angry and she said coldly and quietly, "Your father's dead."

"No? Really?" Sam said sarcastically. "Because I thought he was _alive_! I thought I actually had someone who cared about me in this house." With that she stomped off to her room, and didn't come out for the rest of the night.

Around ten o'clock, she heard her mother come up the stairs and stop at her room. Sam braced herself for a knock, but it never came. About a minute later the footsteps continued down the hall, and Sam heard her mom's door shut.

Sam lay back on her bed and looked at all her band posters above her on the ceiling. She rolled over and pulled out her favorite pictures from her nightstand drawer. The first was the entire family right after Angela had been born. She didn't remember the day all that well, but it was the only picture she had of the five of them that was actually happy.

The second was of her and Bryan. She was nine years old, he was nineteen. It was the summer, right before he would be heading back to college. They were at a baseball game. She was standing in her shorts, oversized Derek Jeter jersey and Yankees cap. Bryan had his arm around her shoulders and was grinning wildly.

We looked so innocent back then, Sam thought. That was right before her father's cancer had been detected. No more vacations after that.

The third was of her and her dad. She was about six, pig-tailed and smiling. Shane had picked her up and was spinning her around in the air. The laughter was written all over their faces.

Tears pricked in the seventeen-year-old Sam's eyes. She carefully put the pictures back in the drawer and crawled under the covers, not bothering to change out of her clothes. She reached over and turned out the lights, falling immediately into a dreamless sleep.


	6. Teenagers scare the livingoutta me

**Six**

Sam's alarm went off at six-thirty the next morning. She moaned and rolled over, slamming her palm down on the off button. Slowly, she shuffled into her closet, wincing as she turned on the lights. She rummaged in her closet, spending all of ten seconds deciding what to wear. It wasn't like there was much variety. She grabbed black jeggings, a knee-length black peasant skirt, a long-sleeved gray thermal v-neck shirt and a black combat vest.

Shuffling back into the bathroom adjoining her room and closet, she plugged in her straightening iron. As she waited for it to heat up, she popped in her contacts and then applied makeup. She started with black eye shadow with sparkles, then followed with smudgy black eyeliner and mascara. Luckily, her complexion was nearly perfect and she didn't have to apply any makeup other than to her eyes.

She finished by straightening her hair and walked downstairs to the kitchen. Her black messenger bag was right where she had left it a week and a half ago, sitting on the counter. Sam was a little surprise Leila hadn't nagged her about it.

Her mother had already left to take Angela to school, and then go to work. Since Sam didn't have a car, she would have to walk to school. She didn't mind. Sometimes her friends walked with her or gave her a ride, but other times she just enjoyed being alone.

Sam looked at the clock and swore. She was going to be late. Oh well, she didn't really like her first-period class, calculus. She grabbed a powerbar from the cabinet and a jacket, because it was still cold and headed out the door, bag slung over one shoulder. She was just locking up when she heard a car honk.

Chase was outside her driveway in a sleek red sports car. Sam's eyes went wide. "Wow," she breathed.

"Like it?" he asked, sticking his head out the window.

"Did you just come to taunt me with it," Sam asked, "or are you planning on giving me a ride? Because that definitely influences my decision."

"In that case, I suppose I could give you a ride," Chase said with a smirk. His messy sandy-blonde hair was even messier than usual this morning, making him look much cuter to Sam. She sighed. He had star baseball player written all over him. How in the world had they ended up together?

She didn't dwell on the thought however. She had learned not to live in the past. Jumping in the front seat, she turned and gave Chase a kiss. He kissed her back, but just a peck since they had to be at school soon.

The drive was too short. Too soon were they in the parking lot and saying goodbye. Chase had history first hour, and his teacher happened to be the assistant baseball coach. The head coach had become real strict on missing school after a bunch of stars, not including Chase, had cut school following their state championship victory last season to go celebrate, meaning get crazy drunk. The principal had wanted them suspended, but the coach managed to convince him to just let him speak to all his players and enforce new rules next season.

"I can't give you a ride after school," Chase said sadly, "I have to go to practice."

"I know," Sam said. "It's okay. I'll be fine."

"Alright, bye."

"Bye."

Sam headed in the door to the commons. She still had ten minutes before the bell, and wanted to drop some things off in her locker. She glanced around, hoping to see one of her bandmates, but didn't. She sighed and started to squeeze through the crowd of popular kids blocking the way to the juniors' hallway.

"Excuse me," she muttered. But no one listened so she gave up and just shoved her way through. Then she made the mistake of shoving a star football player and causing him to bump into his girlfriend who had been putting on lipgloss. It had caused her hand to move, and the Barbie-fake slut now had a red mark across her cheek. Personally, Sam found it kind of funny, but she hadn't meant to, so she apologized and then continued on her way.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and was roughly turned around. The jock was glaring at her. She thought his name was Devon, but she couldn't remember. Sam knew the Barbie girl was Britney, and she had heard that she got together with a Devon over break, but while that may have only been a week ago, Sam wouldn't have put it past the girl to be on a different guy already.

"What?" Sam said. "I said I was sorry."

"Yeah you will be sorry, you fucking freak!" Devon said, throwing a fist at her. Sam easily stepped out of the way, and he hit a locker. Devon turned on her, face furious, when Sam saw an arm, followed by a shoulder, then a person step in front of her. It was Cale.

"Back off," he growled.

"Ooh," Devon jeered, "One freak defending another. Isn't that cute?" But he backed off and went back to his girlfriend.

"Thanks," Sam said.

"No problem," Cale said. "I'm sure you could've handled him, but I didn't want to attract teacher attention. We can't afford you getting a detention and having to miss practice," he joked. "We finished writing the parts for the song last night, following it mostly like how you sang it, but there are a few changes. Here's your notebook. I was bringing it back." He handed her the torn up blue notebook.

"Thanks," she said again. "See ya later."

"See ya," Cale said.

Calculus was hard to concentrate in normally, but after the Devon encounter Sam really didn't want to think about school. It had shaken her up a little, sure, but she had never been really scared. She may be small, but she used to be a black belt in tae kwon do. Although she hadn't practiced in years, she was pretty sure that she could've taken him in a fight.

It was more like she was off in her songwriting world. A tune and lyrics suddenly came to her and it was all she could do not to burst out in class. Instead, she doodled them on her paper.

"_Teenagers scare the living shit outta me…"_

"_They could care less as long as someone'll bleed…"_

"And obviously Miss Samantha Robbins has decided that her notebook is far more entertaining than this class," a voice said. In the back of Sam's mind, something said that she should snap out of it. But she was so absorbed in the new song that she didn't pay heed. The lyrics were taking over her mind. She had to write them down before they slipped away.

Someone coughed next to her. She looked up. A brown-haired girl nodded in the direction of the board. Kayla, that was her name, Sam remembered. Mrs. Jankovich, or Janko-bitch, as Johnny called her, was looking at her.

"I'm sorry, I was just copying the problem down so I could work it," Sam quickly lied, something she found she was alarmingly good at on the spot.

"Oh," the teacher said, not believing her for a second, "then could you please give us the answer?" She smiled a little at the end. She had caught Sam.

Oh crap, Sam thought. Crap. Think think think! Luckily, she was amazingly good at math and she was able to look at the board for a few seconds and finish the problem. "Three x over radical seven?" she said.

Janko-bitch's expression fell, and her eyes narrowed, but she said, "Correct." Sam smiled and leaned back in her seat, refraining from writing in her notebook momentarily. When the teacher turned around, she muttered a thanks to Kayla. At least someone in the school other than her four bandmates and boyfriend was civil to her.

The bell rang not too long after that, and Sam hurried out of the class and to English, which she had with Johnny. The two sat in the back, and it was a large class, so they could hopefully talk. She wanted to show him the lyrics.

He was waiting outside her classroom, looking around when she left. At first she wondered why he was there, then she remembered that he and Cale both had physics first hour. Cale probably would have told him about the whole Devon thing.

She guessed correctly. "I can beat him up if you want," Johnny offered.

Sam laughed. "Honestly, Johnny, I could probably beat him up better than you. No offense," she added, seeing his hurt expression. "I've just had more training."

Johnny _humphed_, pretending to be hurt. "I try to be chivalrous and this is what I get? Don't you see why I never do these honorable things?"

Sam snorted but said, "Come on, I've got new lyrics to show you. Not for the audition," she said when he looked like he was going to kill her for making him write all new notes again, "but maybe for a single, if the audition goes well."

"Freaks!" a freshman yelled to them as they walked past a group of boys, all on the sports teams.

Sam rolled her eyes. "What was that Jesse said about us dropping out?" High school was just plain annoying.


	7. Have you heard the news that you're dead

**~Alright, to anyone who's actually following this, I promise the plot will take a turn at the end! Thanks for reading :] Review if you want, I like feedback!~**

**~T**

**Seven**

The Black Parade was running low on batteries for their amps and other equipment, so Jesse and Cale went after school to pick some up. Johnny and Liza had to stay after school for a little while for detention. They had cornered Devon during lunch and yelled at him, but a teacher had been walking by. Sam had been angry, because that was the whole reason she hadn't been able to punch his stupid face in, but also thought it was sweet that they would defend her like that.

Chase had been furious when he found out, but Sam told him it wasn't worth being suspended a game for getting in a fight. That was probably what Devon wanted, his best friend was the backup shortstop, and Chase was the starter. After all, the whole encounter really hadn't bothered her like everyone thought. Oh well, it was nice to be loved.

So Sam was stuck walking home by herself. It would've been alright, but she really wasn't in one of her moods, and it was cold. She hadn't brought a warm enough jacket, but hadn't noticed in the morning because she had ridden with Chase.

And she kept hearing footsteps behind her. At first she thought she was paranoid, but the steps were really sloppy, so she knew they had to be real. No one imagines sloppy attackers. She spun around and said, "I know you're there you dipshits, and I'm not scared of you."

"You freaking tattletale!" a jock called, stepping out of the shadows. Another stepped out from behind them. Sam didn't know their names.

"Not my fault," Sam said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving now. I have places to be." She turned around and kept walking, keeping an ear out.

Sure enough, she heard them charge at her. She waited until they were right behind her, tricking them into thinking that she didn't hear them coming. Then she sidestepped the first like she had done earlier with Devon. This put her in the path of the second, but she easily bent over and used her attacker's momentum to throw him over her shoulder. The first came at her again and swung some punches. She was able to dodge most of them, but one caught her in the side of the head, and she saw spots for a minute.

But that only served to piss her off. Unlocking the imaginary box where she stored her emotions, Sam went on the offensive. "It's on motherfucker!" she said. She threw some punches, landing every one exactly where she intended.

"Holy shit, man," the second jock said, when he recovered enough to get up. "Let's go." They ran off.

Sam touched the side of her face. It was starting to puff up. Shit, she thought. She didn't want to look like a thug for the audition. She needed to get ice on this, fast. She opted to not go home, but straight to Liza's house.

Mrs. Buchanan answered the door when Sam rang, took one look at her face, and ushered her into the house and promptly began fussing over her. Sam couldn't help but think her mom wouldn't do that. But maybe she was wrong. She and Leila didn't get along, but it was clear her mother wouldn't want her physically hurt, right? Emotionally was a different story, however.

"What happened?" Mrs. Buchanan asked.

"Got in a fight," Sam mumbled.

"Do I need to call the school? Is this about that Devon kid."

Oh, great, Sam thought. Even Liza's mom already knew. Although if Liza had detention, she had probably told her mother why.

"Well, sorta I guess. Although they look a lot worse than me."

"They? As in more than one?"

Oops. Wrong thing to say. "Seriously, Mrs. B. it's not that big of a deal."

Lauren Buchanan looked like she begged to differ, but then Liza and Johnny walked in and saw Sam's face and got all pissed all over again.

"I'm okay guys! Really!" Sam said, then doubled over in a coughing fit.

"Did you ever figure out what's wrong with you?" Johnny asked, momentarily forgetting the fight.

"No, haven't heard back from the doctor yet."

Cale and Jesse got back not too long after, and after Sam retold the entire story for the third time, they finally got around to practicing.

The new song was everything Sam had hoped it would be and more. Cale had changed a few things musically, which was fine, because Sam wasn't too good at those things normally. This one had just flooded into her mind, sort of like the song earlier. But the changes worked brilliantly.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Jesse asked her.

"Bury your friends?" Liza offered.

"Actually," Sam said, biting her lip, "I'd been thinking of calling it 'Kill All Your Friends.'"

"A bit more dramatic," Cale said thoughtfully, "but I like it."

"Like she needs your approval," snorted Johnny.

Sam smiled. She loved how they could banter back and forth. They truly were her family. Speaking of…

"Shit!" she said.

"What?" asked Liza.

"Well I actually said I'd be home at a decent time tonight. Could one of you take me home?"

"Yeah, I can. My way home is through you, baby," Jesse said with a wink.

Sam rolled her eyes and smiled. Jesse had to drive through her neighborhood to get to his.

"Alright, thanks. How does my face look?" she asked Liza, handing her her mother's icepack back.

"It's looked better," Liza said truthfully, "but it could be a lot worse."

"Maybe we should sing that new song. It would fit my face better," Sam muttered to Johnny. She hadn't had a chance to show the others yet. They didn't have time to worry about anything new right now. It was crunch time.

He smiled sympathetically but didn't say anything.

When she and Jesse pulled into her driveway, Sam saw a car she didn't recognize in the driveway. She couldn't even make out the model, but she could see it was white. Jesse looked at her questioningly.

"Do you want me to walk you in?" he asked.

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks for taking me home."

"No problem. I can pick you up tomorrow if you want, you know just so you don't have to beat anymore people up if they come looking for trouble. I'm doing it for their sake," he said.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind actually. Thanks!"

"Alright. Tomorrow then. And I won't even be late!"

"Bye," Sam said shutting the door. She was smiling to herself as she fumbled in her bag for her key. But she found the door unlocked, so she just opened it, stepping inside. She was a little wary. Her mother rarely left the door unlocked.

"Mom?" she called. "Angela?"

She could hear her mother's voice from the kitchen, and that of a man. It seemed familiar. Sam knew she had heard it before, but she couldn't place it.

"You're wrong," Leila was saying.

"I'm sorry," the man said. Dr. Reed, her brain screamed. It was the doctor.

"Check again!" Her mother yelled.

"You don't think I have? You don't think I haven't checked five times? Do you think I ever want to tell a family something like this, let alone one that's already gone through it?" the doctor hissed.

Sam stepped into the kitchen and seeing them for the first time. Dr. Reed was still in his white hospital scrubs. He had a stubble, and clearly hadn't shaved in a few days. Her mother was in his face, with her back to Sam, so she couldn't see her expression. But based on the tone of her voice, Sam could guess it wasn't pleasant.

"Mom? What's going on?"

Leila spun around, and honestly looked pained to see her daughter. "Nothing, Sam. The doctor just made a mistake. Go upstairs now."

"I told you, I've tried everything. I've checked the results multiple times. I'm sorry, there's no way I'm wrong."

"You _are _wrong!" But Leila sounded more frantic than sure of what she was saying.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Sam asked again.

"Nothing's going on," her mother said.

"She should know," said Dr. Reed.

"Know what?" Sam asked. Had something happened to Angela? Or _Bryan?_ Was one of them sick?

"Nothing!" said her mother, looking frantically from Sam to the doctor and back again.

"Leila, she has a right to know!" the doctor yelled.

"_Will somebody tell me what the FUCK is going on here!" _Sam screamed.

Much to her shock, Leila's eyes actually teared up, and she didn't try to stop Dr. Reed as he walked over to Sam.

"I'm sorry," he said. And the funny thing was, Sam believed him. There was actual pain in his eyes, and Sam knew what that looked like. It was what she saw every day when she looked in the mirror.

Dr. James Reed put a hand on her shoulder and then proceeded to tell her the three words that would change her life forever.

"You have cancer."


	8. Come one, come all to this tragic affair

_**~Sorry it's short. It was originally going to be longer, but I thought it needed to be broken where it was. Hopefully I'll have the next one soon!~**_

_**W/ luv**_

_**~T**_

**Eight**

What? Sam hadn't heard right. She couldn't have heard right. Because there was no freaking way that what she thought she heard was true. Fate wasn't that sick and twisted, was it? No, it wasn't. So instead of running and screaming and swearing, Sam calmly said, "I'm sorry, Doctor. What did you say? I don't think I heard you right."

"Sam," he said, making her look into his eyes. "I'm sorry. I was telling you the truth. You have cancer."

Sam's world shattered for the third time in her short life. The first was when her dad died. The second was when Bryan left her. Now, the third was when she left them. Well, not her dad.

_Someday, a long, long time from now, when you're really old, I'll come back for you and we'll go to a parade again, okay? _

Somehow Sam didn't think that her dad suspected that 'a long, long time from now' would have been so soon. She felt hysterical laughter bubbling up, and covered it up by asking a question.

"Like my dad?" she asked. How she managed to keep her cool was beyond her. Leila was crying, and in the back of her mind Sam thought, it's nice to be loved, even if it is only at the end.

Even further back in her mind, she knew that was harsh. Leila had been affected more than any of them by Shane's death. It was hard on her, Sam knew. But that didn't excuse how she had acted. Secretly, Sam wished that things were different between her and her mother, but she wouldn't have changed anything she had done. Not that she was perfect, but her friends and her band were all she really wanted.

"Yes. The same kind. I'm so sorry," said Dr. Reed.

Sam's mind sort of went blank after that. She was vaguely aware of her mother asking Dr. Reed some questions.

"How bad is it? How long does she have?" And so on.

"If I had to guess right now, I'd say six months, a year if she's lucky."

"Do we need to find a doctor?"

Dr. Reed sighed. "No, I'm the most qualified in the area."

So that was why Dr. Fisher had sent them there, Sam realized. She had probably guessed all along, but because of the situation with her father, had wanted to be 120% sure before they said anything.

Sam slowly backed out of the room and sprinted up the stairs to the attic. She ran past Angela, who asked, "Sam? Is something wrong?"

Once she was there, she slammed the door shut and curled up in a ball. Strangely, the tears never came. Slowly, she pulled herself up and grabbed a pen and paper. She knew some kids probably thought she cut herself, but why would she need to do that? Sure she'd had a tough life, but she had her music. It was her way out. Her way to stay sane.

"_Now come one, come all to this tragic affair! Wipe off that makeup, what's in is despair!"_

"_When I grow up I want to be nothing at all!"_

The simple song suddenly morphed into another as Sam's mind began to swell with anger. Why me? she thought.

"_Have you heard the news that you're dead? No one really had much nice to say. I think they never liked you anyway." _

She thought of her life. Other than her boyfriend, bandmates, their parents, and her own family, who would miss her? She hadn't done anything with her life, because she hadn't had the chance left. No one would remember her.

"Just a few more years," she whispered.

If she had had a few more years, she could've made a difference. She could've fulfilled the promise she'd made to her dad. She could've lived forever through her music.

She thought of Dr. Reed telling her, and her mom asking how long she had left. The words kept coming.

"_Found a complication in your heart, so long. 'Cuz now you've got, maybe just two weeks to live…"_

"Well is that the most both of you can give!" Sam screamed, then laid her head down in her lap.

"_If life ain't just a joke, then why are we laughing?" _

"If life ain't just a joke, then why am I dead?" she whispered.


	9. This is the best day ever

**Nine**

Eventually Sam managed to drag herself down from the attic. She went straight to her room and sat on her bed. She didn't lie down. She sat. Her eyes stared blankly at the door, not really seeing anything.

There was a knock at her door. Sam didn't have the will to respond. Her mother slowly opened the door and sat down on the bed next to her. Neither said anything. Strangely, this was the closest Sam could ever remember being to her mother, physically and emotionally. They weren't fighting for once.

"You can beat this," Leila whispered.

"No I can't," Sam said, even softer. If her dad hadn't been able to, how could she?

"Would your father want you to say that?"

That shook Sam out of her funk. "What?"

"Did your father ever let his cancer get to him?"

All Sam could do was stare, open mouthed.

"Your father kept living in the time he had left. And that's what you're going to do," Leila said as she stood. "And you're going to fight too. You're a fighter, Sammy, you always have been." With a small smile she left the room and a shocked Sam, who thought that was the most touching thing her mother had ever said to her.

Sam sat for a few more minutes before realizing for once her mother was right. She could fight. And even if she couldn't beat it, she could go down swinging and she could keep writing her music and leave her mark on the world.

Sam stood with a determined smile on her face. She knew what she had to do. But one thing she also knew was that she had just been told something very traumatic, and she needed to deal with that, on her own, first. She had to come to terms with it before anyone else.

"Mom?" Sam asked, calling down the hall. Leila came out of her room.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to go to school tomorrow."

"Oh, honey, of course not. I'll call them first thing in the morning. Do you want me to stay home with you?"

Sam had kind of assumed she would, wouldn't most parents, but once she thought about it, she realized the alone time would be good.

"No. I'll be fine."

"Alright. Get some sleep. I'll go to Dr. Reed's tomorrow afternoon, and we'll talk about how to move forward with this."

Move forward with this? Sam thought that sounded like something you'd hear on TV after a celebrity got a DUI or something, but she didn't say anything.

"Okay, goodnight," Sam said and returned to her room.

She was about to get under the covers and go to sleep when she remembered Jesse was planning on coming by and picking her up. He was even going to be on time. Sam almost snickered. Who was she to make him get up early? But that meant she would have to call him, and refrain from telling him the truth. She hated lying but it had to be done. They couldn't know, not yet.

She picked her phone up from the bedside. It rang twice before Jesse picked up.

"Jess?" she asked.

"Yeah, what's up? Everything okay?"

"Yes," Sam said, but her voice cracked.

"Oh, no. What is it?"

"Nothing." God, why did they have to be so caring? It made it really hard to lie. There was silence, so she added, "I mean this! I'm okay!" She knew her voice wavered a little, but she couldn't help that. She pressed on. "But I'm not going to school tomorrow, so you can sleep in! You don't have to pick me up!"

"Did those freaks get to you? Cuz if they did I swear to God I'll beat them so bad that…" he babbled on and it took Sam a minute to realize what he was talking about. Then she remembered. _Devon. _It seemed so trivial now. She almost started laughing or crying, she wasn't sure which. But those years of practice at hiding her emotions came in handy.

"No, Jesse, it actually has nothing to do with that. I just don't feel well." That wasn't a lie. "Remember, my coughing?"

"Oh yeah. But are you sure it's not something else?"

She wanted to tell him. He was one of her oldest friends. "I'm sure. Goodnight Jesse, you aren't gonna keep a sicky up are you?"

"Nope," he said cheerfully. "You need to rest up those vocal chords of yours for the audition. 'Night babe!"

Oh crap. The audition. How would she possibly do it? It was in three days. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Pull yourself together, she thought. You wanna leave your mark on the world? Then stop the fucking internal whining and sing.

She smiled at her inner drill sergeant. Actually smiled. And it was gone in a flash. Suddenly, Sam was tired. For the second night in a row, she crawled under the covers in her clothes and went to sleep.

A few minutes later she was woken up by knocking. Sam grunted and put her head under her pillow, but it persisted. Annoyed, she sat up…and saw sunlight streaming in her window. Oops. It was morning. She had to get ready for school and…

The past night's events all came crashing down on her. She couldn't breathe for a second. Her eyes closed as she fought for control. Winning the battle, she pushed back the covers and got out of bed. She went to open her door, and saw herself in the mirror. Her hair was mussed and her makeup and formed black smudgy rings around her eyes.

No time to fix that now. She opened her door but no one was there. She frowned, but then heard the knock again. Oh, it was downstairs. Sam didn't even think and opened the door.

Cale stood there in black jeans, a huge black ski jacket, and dark green beanie cap covering his long, black hair. His green eyes stood out.

"Hey," he said. "Are you okay?"

Sam wanted to tell him, she wanted to tell him even more than she had wanted to tell Jesse. Instead she said, "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"I ditched."

"Why?"

"To make sure you're okay."

"Why would you do that?" Sam snapped.

Cale looked shocked for a second, but recovered quickly.

"You're my best friend. Why wouldn't I? Jesse said you sounded upset last night."

Then she felt bad. He had only thought he was helping. Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm just grumpy. I just got up, and you know how I get when I'm sick."

Cale flashed back to a gig about a year ago. Sam had the flu, but this was actually a paying gig and they needed some extra cash to get some new equipment. She was pissed the entire drive to and from, though, and it had been two hours each way.

"Yeah, I remember," he said.

It was cold, and again Sam felt bad about making him stand out in the cold. "Do you want to come in?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine. I should probably get back. I guess I should've listened to Jesse. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and see for myself. Sorry I woke you up!"

"No! Don't worry about it!" Sam said. He turned around and was about halfway down her driveway when Sam yelled, "Cale!" He turned, hands in his pockets. "I'm really glad you came over," she smiled.

A quirky little half smile crossed his face. "No problem. You're welcome. See you at practice?"

Sam's face fell. "We'll see. I'll text one of you."

"Alright! We've got an audition to get ready for!"


	10. I'm not okay

**Ten**

Sam shut the door after Cale left. She would tell them soon, she told herself. But there were a few things she needed to do first, like come to terms with it herself. She needed to be okay with it if she was going to ask them to be okay with it too. They had to keep the band. It was truly all she had now. And she needed to talk to Bryan.

She went to the refrigerator and found the emergency number for Bryan. It wouldn't go directly to him of course, but it would let someone know that he needed to call home asap. Sam took a deep breath and dialed.

"Can I help you?" a woman's voice asked.

"Um isn't this an emergency line?" Sam asked. The lady sounded like Sam was calling to purchase something.

"Yes. Who do you need to speak to?"

"Well, I need to talk to my brother, Bryan Robbins. But, um, it's nothing he needs to know right this second. But if he could please call me today and if not today within the next couple of days I'd really really appreciate it!"

Sam swore she could hear a trace of a smile in the woman's voice. "Alright. And what is your name?"

"Samantha Robbins."

She proceeded to ask for all of Sam's contact information and then assured her that she would get the message to Bryan. Sam thanked her and hung up. At least she had tried to tell him first. But there was one more person she needed to talk to.

"Hello?" Chase said.

"Hey, it's me."

"Sam? Are you sick? You're not hurt are you? Johnny told me about those jerks."

"No, they aren't the problem, Chase."

"Then there is a problem?"

"Do you think you could come to my house at lunch? I really need to tell you something."

"Sure. Is everything okay?"

How many times was she going to get that question? She couldn't lie again.

"Just come at lunch."

"Alright. Bye."

Sam hung up. She busied herself with writing more songs, although none really stood out like the ones she had written last night.

She barely heard the doorbell ring. Sam sprinted down the stairs, opened the door, and flung herself into Chase's arms.

"Whoa," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

"Let's go inside," Sam said. "Sit down."

They sat on the sofa in the living room. Chase was looking at her expectantly, but didn't want to push her. He knew whatever was wrong, it was bad. She wouldn't brush off her friends like that if it wasn't something major. He knew how close she was to them.

He remembered when they first met. They were just starting their sophomore year. He was the only underclassman starter on the baseball team, he started as a freshman, and she was labeled as one of those emo-Goth kids that everyone picked on or just ignored. One day a group of his friends was making fun of her when she had tripped in her clunky black boots and dropped her stuff. He didn't do anything cliché and romantic, like shove his friends and help her pick up her books. Now he wished he had. But it all worked out the same.

He saw her again in the hallway, and asked her name. They got to talking, and he eventually asked her out. He couldn't really pinpoint exactly why he fell for her. He just knew he loved her. The other guys on the team gave him crap all the time over dating her, but he was one hell of a shortstop, so they didn't ever say anything that bad.

"What's wrong, Sam?" he asked. "Just tell me." She needed a little prodding, and the suspense was killing him. Was Bryan injured, or worse?

"I, uh, I have," she said, then clamped up.

"Tell me," Chase said. "It's okay."

"I have cancer."

He was silent for a minute. "What?"

"I have cancer," she said, then took a breath, "like my dad."

"I, ah, I don't…know what to say."

He didn't. He wanted to tell her it would all be okay, but she had said like her dad. And he had died. Instead he walked over and kissed her. When they broke the kiss, there were tears glistening in her eyes.

He hugged her again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," she said, wiping her eyes. Then she looked at the clock and swore. "You need to get back to school."

"You honestly expect me to go back to school?"

"Yeah. Don't you have a game?"

"There are things more important than games."

"Yeah, but sitting here with me isn't one of them," Sam said. Then her brow furrowed. Then Chase saw one of the strangest things. A huge smile broke out on her face.

"What?" he asked.

"I just got it!"

"Got what?"

"I thought you were stupid for sitting here and wasting a game and a part of your life all because I got some stupid disease. But that's exactly what I was going to do!"

"Yeah," he said, "You're exactly right," although he wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about. But she was shooing him out the door, so he didn't argue or ask for an explanation. She seemed happy for now, and he didn't want to ruin that. And he guessed she really wanted him to go to his game. "Okay, see you tomorrow?"

"Yup," Sam said. "Good luck tonight! Bye!"

Only after he left did everything Sam had said sink in.


	11. Honey this mirror isnt big enough for us

**Eleven**

Sam knew what she had to do. She had to tell the band. But only them. She didn't think she could face Liza's family too. She loved them, so much, but she just wasn't ready for that yet.

"Hey, Cale, it's me. Can you tell everyone I need you all to meet me at my house after school?"

She knew Cale would be worried, but this wasn't a conversation you had over the phone. It was one you needed to be there in person for.

Sam thought the time would pass slowly, but there was a knock on her door before she knew it. This is it, she thought as she opened it and ushered her bandmates in.

They were all sitting on couches and chairs, and looking at her expectantly.

Here it goes, Sam thought. "Well, you guys know I've been sort of out of it and sick lately." They all nodded. "Well, we, uh, figured it out. I have cancer." It was easier to say the second time.

The expressions ranged from pure sadness to confusion to shock. Liza stood up and ran over to her. She grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "There's no way! Your dad had cancer. Surely two people in the same family can't have it! That's just fucking horrible!"

"Is it the same kind as your dad?" Cale asked quietly.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed.

"Shit," he breathed, so quietly Sam wasn't sure she heard it.

Johnny and Jesse had been silent. But then they both got up and came over and gave her a hug. Liza joined in, followed by Cale.

"Thanks guys," Sam said, finding she was tearing up again. Everyone else was too, though, so it was okay. "This doesn't change anything, you know. We're still going to go to the audition, and we're still going to make an album."

They decided to still have practice because the audition was so close, but Sam said she was going to wait to hear from Leila, who would be at the doctor. The rest of the band understood.

"Just come when you can," Jesse told her.

"I'll be there by five," Sam promised.

They had only been gone around ten minutes when there was another knock at the door. Doesn't anyone ring the doorbell, Sam thought. She opened it and found Chase standing there.

"I, uh, I," he started. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Sam said. "What's wrong? I thought you had a game."

"I do, and I have to be back, so I won't sit down." He paused and looked around. He was wringing his hands. "God, I feel awful."

Sam was confused. He looked so nervous. "Chase just spit it out!"

"I can't do this anymore! I just can't deal with it. There's so much drama. The guys give me crap all the time. We're just, we're…we're not meant for each other. I mean look at us! Everyone was right. We're not compatible. I'm a star baseball player and you're in an emo, or Goth, or punk or whatever you want to call it band! There's no way we would work out."

Sam was shocked. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Well, aw jeez you make it sound so bad. You make me seem like an evil person."

"Chase yes or no, are you breaking up with me?"

"Shit, Sam, I-"

"Answer the freakin' question, Chase."

"Look, I really think you're great, it's just-"

"Oh, save me the bullshit breakup lines. After everything I've gone through I don't deserve those, I deserve the truth."

"I'm sorry," Chase said, looking at his feet, "but I don't want to do this anymore. It's too hard for me, especially now on top of...everything. Yes, I'm breaking up with you." And with that he walked out on her.

Sam was shocked. That was not what she had been expecting. Suddenly it all became too much to bear. He was such a douche. _He _couldn't handle it? How did he think she felt? She just found out she had fucking _cancer! That _was drama.

She stormed up to her room, slammed the door and collapsed on her bed, burying her face in the pillows. The tears she had been holding in began to flow out now. Sam didn't try to restrain them. She found she was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, but she didn't care. Chase had been her first love. And now he was gone.


	12. I don't love you

**Twelve**

Sam didn't know how long she lay like that, but she didn't hear when Leila softly knocked on her door and entered.

"Sam? Is something the matter?"

Sam sat up and hurriedly wiped at her eyes.

"Chase and I broke up," she mumbled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," her mom said. She probably meant it, too. Her mother had always adored Chase.

"It's fine. He ended up kind of being a jerk, anyways."

"I talked to Dr. Reed," Leila said. "We have an appointment for Saturday."

"Saturday?" Sam said. "But I have the audition!"

Leila looked surprised. "You aren't honestly going to keep pursuing that silly band of yours are you?"

"Are you telling me that I shouldn't pursue my dreams? That I shouldn't do what I want in the little time I have left?" Leila winced at the last statement.

"I would think that you would want to do something with your life," she said.

"Do something with my life? And music isn't doing something with my life?" Sam screamed. Where was the woman who had called her a fighter last night? The one who had been kind and sympathetic? Because she definitely wasn't there anymore.

"Just because you have…this sickness…doesn't mean I'm going to suddenly alter my beliefs about you and your death band!" There was that term again. Sam almost always disliked her mother, but knowing what it was like to lose a parent, tried to never hate her, but there were times where she just couldn't help it. Now was one of them. She _hated _her mother.

"It's not a death band!" she screamed. "It's my band and I love it and I'm not quitting on it!"

Leila looked like she was going to retaliate, but instead she just stormed out of the room.

"UH!" Sam screamed and buried her face in her pillow.

Her phone beeped. She grabbed it. It was a text from Cale. Shit, it was five-thirty. She had said she would be there by five.

"Everything okay?" it asked.

"No," Sam typed, "but I don't want to talk about it now. I'll talk to you guys tomorrow, I promise. I'll be at practice then too." She was about to hit send, then added, "Please don't come over. I just want to be alone now." She pressed send.

Sam knew her friends. They would be worried sick, but she needed to be alone. Huh, funny, because she was always alone at home, it seemed.

Sam went to her bathroom and hopped in the shower. It felt good. She got out actually feeling refreshed. Washing all the old makeup off her face helped too. She changed out of her clothes and got into some pajama pants and an old sweatshirt and crawled into bed. But soon she found that she couldn't fall asleep.

Sighing, she got out of bed and grabbed her old, tattered blue notebook where she wrote all her songs. Silently, she crept past Angela's room and up the stairs to the attic. For having a sister, Sam mused, I never seem to see her.

She instantly felt better once she was up there. Maybe it was because her dad's old stuff was up there. Or maybe it was because it was the one place she could concentrate. Or maybe it was a lot of little things that she just didn't realize.

Sam leaned against an old trunk and began to write.

"_The amount of pills I'm takin' counteracts the booze I'm drinking…"_

"_You can cry all you want to, I don't care how much you'll invest yourself in me…" _

She wrote about half of the song before throwing the notebook down. It was like the song was writing itself from Chase's point of view.

How could he do that? Why couldn't he have just said it? Why did he try to make up all those stupid excuses? The drama, the differences in their high school social classes, they were all just excuses. Because the truth was simple. The truth was that he just didn't love her anymore, if he ever truly did. And Sam didn't understand why he didn't just go out and say it. She deserved that, at least. And it would've made things a lot easier.

Suddenly, she knew what she had to write.

"_Well, when you go, don't ever think I'll make you try to stay…"_

"_You're still the good for nothing I don't know…"_

"_When you go, would you even turn to say 'I don't love you, like I did yesterday?'"_

Tears were pricking her eyes when she finished, but she knew it was good. Sam wasn't vain, she didn't think she was the best writer in the world, but she knew when she wrote a truly great song, and this was one of those.

"I Don't Love You," she whispered, writing the words at the top.

Sam yawned. It seemed now that she had gotten that song out of her system, her body would let her sleep. She didn't feel like walking down to her room, however, so she found on old blanket and balled up some clothes to use as a pillow and camped out in the attic. She liked it up there anyway.

As she was falling asleep, her mind kept drifting from her mother to Chase and back. Her mom was wrong, she finally decided as sleep almost overtook her. The band was her life, and she was going to do something with it. The fact that she couldn't sleep until she had written the song was proof of that.

Maybe that was really the reason that she was always at peace in the attic. Sure all the other factors played a part, but maybe the true reason was that when she was there it was just her and her writings. And that was her purpose in life, she knew that now.

Sam's face curled into a smile as she fell asleep, and despite everything that had happened to her she was, well, not happy, but content with her situation for the time being.


	13. We all carry on

**Thirteen**

Sam woke up early the next morning and snuck back down to her room. She didn't really feel like confrontation this morning. But strangely, she felt refreshed. The night to herself in the attic really had done wonders. She felt like she could brave going to school.

Getting ready was a different story. She was anxious to see her band, so she didn't spend the usual time she did on hair and makeup. Honestly, she didn't really see the point anymore. Wouldn't her hair be gone soon anyway? On second thought, maybe she should straighten it if that was the case…

Sam finally settled on slopping on some black eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara, and pulling her hair half up and straightening the red part. It sure was dramatic. She sighed. Guess this means no dying it green next month.

When she went downstairs, Sam found her mother actually making breakfast, and Angela sitting at the table. Her younger sister was staring blankly at an empty glass. She looked up when Sam entered. Without saying a word, Angela shoved her chair back and hurtled into Sam with more force than Sam thought she was capable of producing. It almost served to knock her over.

So I guess mom told her, Sam thought.

"You're gonna be okay," Angela said, and even though Sam was pretty sure she had no clue what she was talking about, the support was nice.

"I know," Sam said. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

Then Leila set some eggs down on the table, and the sisters went to sit down and eat.

The family ate in silence at first, but eventually Leila made small talk about school with Angela. It was kind of nice for Sam to hear what was going on in her sister's life. Angela didn't really like to talk, that had probably come from having a quiet family. She had been young when Shane died, and didn't really remember him, or Bryan, for that matter, all that well. Sure she could recognize their faces and remember their voices, but she hadn't really known them like Leila and Sam.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Leila said and got up from her chair and went over to the microwave. She pulled out a bottle of syrup. Then she walked back to the table and handed it to Sam.

Sam hesitated for a minute before taking it. It had been years since she had had syrup and eggs. It was one of her favorite foods.

_It all started when she was younger, maybe seven or so. Her dad had made the family breakfast. It was tradition for him to cook it every Sunday. Sam had wanted eggs and pancakes because Bryan had both, and since she was a big girl, she could eat just as much as him. She poured her syrup, accidentally letting it spill over onto her eggs._

_"Gross!" she had complained, pushing the plate away and refusing to eat. She was a picky eater to begin with. No one and nothing could make her try new foods. Well, no one but her dad._

_"Eat it, Sammy," Shane had told her._

_"No. It's yucky."_

_"Okay, well you don't get anymore."_

_Sam had pouted for a few minutes, but seeing that her father wouldn't give in, she tried it._

_"This is yummy!" she had yelled, and from then on, at least until before Shane died, she always ate syrup with her eggs._

"Thanks," the teenage Sam told her mother as she loaded the syrup on her plate.

They finished eating, and Leila cleared the plates from the table. As she was putting them in the sink, the phone rang. Everyone tensed a little, wondering if it was Dr. Reed. Leila walked over to where the phone hung on the wall and picked it up.

"Hello?" she asked tentatively.

Then her brow furrowed. "Bryan?" She looked over at Sam. "I don't want to talk to you. Don't call again."

"Bryan?" Angela asked. Unlike her older sister, she hadn't had contact with him since he left. Leila had prohibited it. "I want to talk!"

Sam walked over and held her hand out for the phone. But Leila didn't give the phone over. "Nothing that concerns you. You walked out on us. You don't care about us, so why should we bother talking to you."

"Mom, give me the phone," Sam said.

"No, Sam can't talk. And I don't want you calling back." With that she hung up.

"MOM!" Sam screamed. "He was calling for me!"

"You don't need him."

"I wanted to talk to him!" Angela screamed.

"No," Leila said.

"Why didn't you give me the freakin' phone?" Sam asked.

"Angela, go wait in the car," Leila told her younger daughter. "Now."

"But-" she protested.

"No buts."

Angela looked from Sam to her mother and back. Her mother had a cold expression on her face. Sam's fists were clenched by her sides, and her eyes were narrowed.

"It's okay Angela," Sam said. "You can go."

Slowly, she shuffled out through the garage and got in the passenger side of Leila's car. She was used to her mother and Sam fighting, but that didn't mean that she liked it.

"I called him," Sam said.

"I don't know why you would do that."

"Because he's my brother, and I wanted to tell him."

"He doesn't care about us."

"No, mom, that's where you're wrong. Because I'm pretty sure it's just you he doesn't care about."

With that said, Sam turned and walked into the other room to grab her bags. She didn't understand her mother. One second she would do the little things that used to make her happy, back before her dad died. Then the next, she would do things that no one who truly loved their child would do. Sam wished, almost more than anything, that she could figure her mother out.


	14. When you go don't return to me my love

_**~Soooo... to all of you who are reading this, even though I'm pretty sure it's just Bookslover :] (thank you by the way!), although there could be some anonymous people out there...hmmm...anyway... I unfortunately have to go back to school tomorrow, which means more homework which equals less free time. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I will try really hard to stay on top of this story, because I have every intention of finishing it, however, I may be forced to update less frequently than I have been, sorry! I hope you will all(?) keep reading!~**_

_**W/ luv**_

_**~T**_

**Fourteen**

Sam went back into the kitchen, fully expecting Leila to be gone. But she wasn't. She was still sitting there.

"What? Are you waiting to make sure I can't get the phone if Bryan calls back? You know what, don't even bother, because he probably only gets one fucking chance to call and you just screwed it up for us!" Sam screamed

"I don't understand how you can take his side. I was so crushed when your father died. And then he…just to walk out like that…it's unbelievable," Leila said.

"Oh my god!" Sam had had it. This was the last straw. She blew. "You weren't the only one who lost somebody. We lost our father, and I don't think you seemed to understand that! And guess what, you don't see me sitting around and taking it out on the other people that he loved, do you? You can just be so frickin' selfish sometimes, it drives me insane!"

"_I _can be selfish?" Leila said, her voice rising.

But Sam didn't back down. Once she started there was no stopping. She had a long fuse, and it took a lot to truly get to her and make her mad, but once she went off, she went off like a fucking nuke.

"Yeah, you can be. All you ever think about is what _you _lost. You don't ever think about us, because you know what? We lost more than you. We lost _both _our parents that day." Her mother was truly taken aback, but Sam kept going. "You know how hard it is to live with you? It's nearly impossible. Jeez, I don't know how I do it honestly."

"Then why don't you just leave?"

"That's a good idea," Sam retorted. "Actually I'm pretty sure I'm old enough to be an emancipated minor, or whatever it's called. I really should look into that. But I guess it doesn't really matter cuz I'll either be in a hospital or dead by the time we could get around to having a court case, won't I?"

For once, Leila was truly stunned. She had a strange expression on her face as she backed up, until she disappeared into the garage. Sam was still standing, shaking, as she heard the car pull out of the driveway and drive off.

Then she collapsed onto the nearest chair, and rested her forehead on the table. She kept telling herself over and over that she needed to get up and get to school, but she just couldn't find the will.

Despite evidence of the contrary, Sam didn't particularly like fighting with her mother. And once she thought about it, she might have been a little harsh. But the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that she had been right.

But that didn't mean that she didn't long for the times like when Leila had given her the syrup, or when she had told Sam she would get through the cancer.

The phone rang, shocking Sam out of her thoughts. Bryan! She ran to it and quickly answered.

"Hello?"

"Sam?"  
"Bryan?"

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

The concern in his voice made Sam burst into tears again.

"Shhh," he said. "Just tell me. You can tell me. What's wrong?"

"Bryan, I have…I have cancer…just…just like dad."

The line was silent before Sam heard swearing that would put even Jesse to shame. Ah, so Bryan had learned something in the army after all.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Nope, but you're not the first one to give me that response. In fact, it's pretty much become the standard reaction."

Bryan sighed, but there was pain in his voice. "Only you would still be able to be joking with something like this."

"You're wrong," Sam said. "One other person would."

"Dad," they both said.

"So what's mom's problem? I mean, other than her general hatred of me?"

"I don't know. I've never been able to figure her out."

"Well that makes two of us. Although, I'm pretty sure the world can't figure her out. I think she's just one of those people." He paused. "Do you think she should go get checked out, like by a doctor? I mean, maybe she has a mental disorder or something. Maybe she's bipolar."

Sam snorted. It didn't seem all that unlikely. Still, somehow she didn't think that that was the explanation for their mother.

"I don't know Bry, I'm just trying to get through, you know? She still hates the band. Wants me to quit."

"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically. "I wish I could hear you guys."

"Well," she said, and proceeded to explain to him about the Black Parade's upcoming audition at the recording studio.

"Wow. That's really amazing, Sam. Don't let mom rain on your _parade_."

"Only you could make that bad of a pun," Sam said affectionately. "Seriously, there's, um, not any chance that you could get off to, uh, come back or anything and see me, right? I mean, I know you couldn't come back for all those funerals, like grandma and stuff, but…" she trailed off.

Bryan was silent for so long that Sam was afraid she had lost the call. "I don't think so," he finally said. "I'll ask, don't get me wrong, but they're so strict here. It's nothing like what I thought."

Sam had always guessed that the army wasn't all Bryan had hoped, but this was the first time he had ever confirmed it to her. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No, don't be! I mean, what right do I have to complain, right? I'm not the one with cancer."

"But if you went out in battle you could die too," Sam said, "so I guess we can both complain to each other. I think that's fair. Plus we're siblings, so that already makes it okay."

She could hear the smile in Bryan's voice. "Yeah, I guess it does." He paused, and Sam could hear muffled sounds in the background. "Shit," he said. "Sam? I've got to go. My time's up. But they'll let me call more often now, but I think I'll stick to your cell from now on, okay?"

Sam laughed. "That might not be a bad idea. Okay well thanks for just talking."

"Anytime."

"Oh, damn, real quick. I forgot," Sam pulled out a scrap of paper from her pocket. "I want to run some lines for a song by you. I haven't written a full song yet, but I figured you could help me, because it's kind of about us. It's someone singing to their mama."

"Alright. Hit me."

"_Mama, we're all gonna die. And when we go don't blame us. We'll let the fire just claim us."_

"_And when you go don't return to me my love."_

"That's pretty much all I have right now," Sam said.

"We all go to hell," Bryan said. "That's what she thinks about us, I bet."

Sam scribbled it down on the paper. "Anything else?"

"I should have been a better son," he said, so quiet she almost didn't hear. Part of her wondered if he thought it would just fit in her song, or if he actually believed it. But she wrote it down anyway, because the song was morphing in her mind, and the strands of lyrics were beginning to fit together like puzzle pieces in her mind.

"Okay, then, I'll let you go now," she said.

"Okay. Sam? I love you."

"I love you too," Sam said, truly meaning it.

She hung up, feeling better now that she had told Bryan. She didn't know if she would ever see him again, but at least if she had to go, she would be content with at least one relationship in her life.


	15. Just cant stay one day Im gonna run away

**Fifteen**

Sam entered the office at the school red-faced and extremely cold. Her good mood from talking to Bryan had totally disappeared over the course of the cold walk to school from her house. If she hadn't have been so late, she would've called Jesse or someone to pick her up, but she had already missed first hour by now, and probably second.

The secretary looked up from her desk at Sam. "Tardy?" she asked.

Sam really wanted to say something like "No, I'm perfectly on time, that's why I'm here," but it wasn't the secretary's fault that she was in such a bad mood, so instead, she said, "I guess so. Is there a way I could not be tardy?"

The secretary, Ms. Phillips smiled. "Well, were you at an appointment or something? Is your mom going to call and excuse you?"

Sam literally started laughing. Ms. Phillips rightly had a confused expression on her face.

"No," Sam said between hysterical gasps for air, "I don't think she's going to be calling."

"Okay, well this will have to go on your transcript…" she gave Sam some other instructions, but she wasn't paying attention. She took her tardy pass and headed to third hour. It was about halfway over.

She was walking down the hallway before she remembered what class it was. Physics. Already not her favorite class, but was made worse by the fact that not one of her bandmates was in it. But one person was. Chase. And they sat next to each other. Shit. That was going to be awkward.

Sam opened the door and walked in. There were a few snickers in her direction, and part of her brain wondered what they were laughing about. But there were multiple possibilities. First was just her in general, second was her clothes, and third was the possibility that the entire school knew she and Chase had broken up. She looked over at the back corner, expecting to see Chase, but saw his friend, Bennet, instead. Chase was in the front sitting in Bennet's old seat next to his best friend, Drew.

Sam was glad, at least she liked Bennet. He was the only one of Chase's friends that had ever attempted to include her and not treat her like a total social outcast.

She handed the pass to her teacher and went to her seat. "Hey," she mumbled to Bennet. He nodded back, but kept quiet because Mr. Avery was talking.

After Mr. Avery had finished explaining kinematics equations to everyone, he gave them some time to work on problems out of the book. Bennet took this time to catch Sam up.

"Well, the whole you and Chase thing kind of spread around the entire school pretty fast." Seeing the expression on Sam's face, he added, "I don't think it was Chase, though, I mean he seemed kind of torn up." He let the rest of his statement trail off. He almost seemed like he was questioning Sam.

"Did he tell you why we broke up?"

"No," Bennet said. "You don't have to either!" he quickly added.

That was good. At least Chase had enough respect for their past not to go blaring it to the world. But then again, maybe he was just embarrassed.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "I actually don't really feel like talking about it just yet, but maybe someday someone'll tell you."

Then they changed the subject and talked about less depressing things. Sam hoped she and Bennet could stay friends. He always seemed out of place with Chase's group too, because he was on the track team, not baseball.

I guess I have more friends than just my bandmates, Sam thought. There were a few kids in her art class that she liked. Maybe life wasn't so bad after all. Then the bell rang and she had to go to P.E. and she realized it really was.

It got a little less bad when she saw Liza in the locker room. Liza's face told Sam that she had heard. She came over and gave Sam a hug, not saying anything, which was nice. They waited until after the bell rang, like they usually did, and then walked out of the locker room just as Jesse, Johnny, and Cale were walking out of theirs.

They shot Sam sympathetic looks, but didn't say anything either. They were truly the only people who understood her and her need to not talk about emotional things.

Taking a big breath, Johnny said, "Ready for this?"

They opened the doors to the gymnasium, where the rest of their classmates were already warming up by shooting basketballs or playing with volleyballs. Everyone looked fine in their uniform white shirt and black shorts. Everyone except the Black Parade.

White was a strange color for any of them, and flushed out their pale complexions. Sam was actually fairly dark complected, but the white seemed to wash her out compared to her normal dark clothing. The boys looked bad in the shorts, too. Because they never really wore shorts, and when they did, never athletic ones, they only ones they had were definitely too short. They didn't even go all the way to the knees. Sam and Liza had laughed at them when they came out on the first day.

The jocks laughed at them again when they entered the door. This was an everyday occurrence too. BP liked to wait until everyone else was in the room and already started doing whatever they wanted to do before entering. They avoided most confrontation that way.

The class was horrible, but at least they were doing fitness testing, which meant no team games, which meant no being forced to work with people they absolutely hated and vice versa. Except that day was the mile test.

"Shit," Cale said. "I hate running."

"Me too," Johnny sighed.

"Let's just get it over with," Sam grumbled, because the truth was, she wasn't all that bad of a runner. She kind of liked it. Not that she would go run on her own time all that often, but it was a nice way to unwind. Sam kind of thought that running was a good way to let out stress, and stress was something she had a lot of to let out.

The coach blew the whistle and they all took off. The rest of the band ran all of 100meters before deciding to walk, but Sam kept going. She knew she wouldn't be first, that would be Nicole, who was like ranked third in the state or something. Sam thought she heard that girl could run the mile in like 5 minutes and fifteen seconds.

Sam ended up finishing in six minutes and forty-three seconds. Not a time that would make her go out for the track team, but she beat a lot of the bitchy girls and jocks, and that gave her a bit of satisfaction.

The rest of the band finished a few minutes later. "What was that about?" Cale asked.

Sam shrugged. "Just had to let it out I guess."

The bonus was that after that they got to leave early and their next hour was free for lunch, so they changed, got their bags from their school lockers, and headed to their cars.

"What do you say we just blow this whole day off?" Liza said.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, we have an audition to get ready for," she stated.

"That is true," Johnny said.

"Fine by me," Cale said. "Sam?"

"Sure, why the hell not? I need to start living it up a little," Sam said. "Let's get out of here."

**_~Sorry, sort of filler, but...the audition is coming up soon :]~_**


	16. Tomorrow we'll do it again

_**~Hey good news guys! I think there's two people reading this :] Sorry, got excited there, back to the story...and after this chapter is audition day! How exciting!~**_

**Sixteen**

The Black Parade got to Liza's house. Liza parked her car in the street. The Buchanans had a three-car garage, but Liza's spot was taken up by the band's equipment. She didn't mind, though. Her car had only been broken into once, and the only thing that had been stolen was a blanket.

Mr. Buchanan was on a business trip, so they were able to pull the equipment out and take up two spaces. After hooking up all the amps and stuff they were able to start.

The played each of the three songs they were going to play for the audition, The Sharpest Lives, Sing, and Kill All Your Friends, four times, although Sam only sang full-out twice, and the last time they played them, she didn't sing at all to save her voice. The audition was the next day, Saturday, and BP was feeling about as ready as they could.

"Well, I don't know if there's much use sitting here," Sam said, "No offense to you guys, but I don't think I really want to see you until we're at the studio tomorrow. Being around you all will just make me nervous, and that's not what we need right now."

"I agree," Liza said.

"Ditto," said Johnny.

"So we just meet at the studio tomorrow? No practice or anything?" Cale asked.

"I don't think we need it," Sam said. "Honestly, I think we'll just freak ourselves out and make ourselves more nervous in the audition. I mean, we'll have sound check and we can do a few bars of the songs for warm-up, and we can do all of 'Kill All Your Friends' because it's new if you guys want."

"Yeah, I'd feel a little better about that," Cale said. "Some of those guitar parts can be a little tricky."

"Uh, how are you gonna get to the studio, Sam?" Jesse asked.

"Oh, I actually hadn't thought about that," she said. "Shit." Her nerves had always been a problem. She knew she shouldn't, but she always made herself sick before performing, and with so much riding on this audition, she was already really nervous. She didn't really want to have to sit in the car with one of them for forty-five minutes as they drove to the studio. It would drive her nerves crazy. Her bandmates knew she didn't mean it offensively, that was just how she was.

What Sam really needed was someone who wouldn't want to talk. Someone who she could just ride in silence with. Oh, wait, that was an easy one.

"So you'll call me if it doesn't work out, right?" Liza asked.

"Yeah," Sam promised, hugging her goodbye. "I'll even let you know tonight." Sam got into the passenger seat of Jesse's car. Liza was about to head back inside when Sam added, "Hey, Lize?" Liza turned around. "You might want to be on standby tomorrow morning too, just in case."

"I was planning on it."

"Okay, bye!" Sam said.

They were silent in Jesse's car for a few minutes before Sam asked, "So am I the only one who's really nervous?"

Jesse laughed. "Naw, you just get way more nervous than the rest of us. And I think it calms our nerves to try to take care of yours. You're like our little baby!" he added with a grin.

Sam glared at him, and she didn't know whether or not to think that was annoying, mean, creepy, or kind of cute. But then again, it was Jesse so it was probably all of the above.

He dropped her off at her house, and they both looked at the driveway, remembering that the last time he had driven her home there had been a white car in the driveway containing a doctor that told her that her life was going to change. He almost reluctantly let her go, saying he would see her tomorrow.

Sam let herself in, and found her mom washing the dishes. She took a deep breath. She was going to ask her mother to drive her tomorrow. And the truth was, her nerves were only part of the reason she didn't want to ride with any of The Black Parade. The other part was that she realized she didn't really have that many people in the world. And if she wasn't going to be around much longer, Sam wanted to at least be able to say she tried to make amends with her mother.

"Um, mom?" she started off tentatively.

Leila turned around and shot her a glare, but didn't say anything. Sam took that as a good sign, and kept pushing forward.

"Um, I'm sorry about earlier. It was sort of out of line." That wasn't really true, but Sam wanted to make amends more than be correct. "I guess I've just been under a lot of stress, and I just wanted to talk to my older brother."

Leila sighed. "I don't think I was totally fair either. But I'm glad you know you were out of line." Sam stiffened, but didn't say anything again. Make amends, she told herself. Make amends make amends.

"What did Bryan say? I assume he called back."

At least Leila was saying his name. Sam was a little bit proud of her.

"He was really supportive. I'm glad I was able to talk to him."

This led her mother to sigh. "I really wish you wouldn't talk to him. He left us. He doesn't really care about us."

It was all Sam could do not to scream and pitch a fit like she normally did. But she was growing up, it was time to prove that. "Can we agree to disagree?"

Leila sighed again. "For now, yes. I really don't want to fight with you."

"I don't really either. But there is something I want to ask you." Sam took a deep breath. She was a little nervous. They had made progress and she didn't really want to ruin that. But she also wanted to say she tried to get her mom to understand her choices.

"Do you think you could drive me to the studio tomorrow? I can get a ride home, I just…I just don't really want to ride out with anyone else. You know how…" Sam paused, because her mother didn't know, "Well, I get really nervous before I perform. Usually, I, ah, throw up, and it sort of just makes me even more nervous to be with my bandmates beforehand because I think about it way too much. And I just figured that a forty-five minute drive would be really bad for my nerves."

Leila was silent for a few seconds before answering. She was honestly considering it. "That's fine. I'll take you."

A huge smile broke out across Sam's face. She wanted to hug her mother.

"But Sam? This doesn't mean we aren't going to have a talk sometime about this bad of yours. I'm still not sure I like you doing this."

Sam frowned, but she would take what she could get. "Fine," she said. "Thanks."


	17. Sing it till you're nuts

**Seventeen**

Sam woke up sweating five times during the night. She hadn't fallen asleep until midnight, and she woke up for good at seven. So all in all, only about five hours of sleep.

She stumbled into the shower and turned the water on ice cold. It helped her wake up, and she was really going to need it this morning. She had to be totally alert, and five hours of broken sleep wasn't really going to help much.

Sam spent about two hours on her hair and makeup, making sure everything looked exactly how she wanted it to. She didn't want it to look perfect, she wanted it to look exactly like the image she had for herself.

Her hair was down, but every layer was insanely spiked out, especially the top layers so that the obnoxiously neon red shone through. Not knowing what else to do, Sam used her typical black eye shadow, eye liner, and mascara to make smoky eyes that served to make her look more like a rock star.

Finding something to wear was a bit different. The Black Parade had all agreed that they didn't want to overdo it and look exactly like they did in performances, but they wanted to give the studio a good impression of who they were.

Sam sighed. She never thought they would have to deal with things like this. All she thought they had to do was play their music, but appearance was a big deal, and the tiniest slip up could cost them a deal. It was ridiculous. Why couldn't it just be about the music?

She ended up wearing her lucky black boots and tank top that she had worn at the Battle of the Bands. But she decided against the skirt and went for really tight black jeans instead. Again, her hair was the only splash of color, and that was the way she liked it.

While she was getting ready, she put on a CD of one of her favorite bands to warm up a little. She didn't want to do any heavy singing, but she needed to at least a tiny bit or she was afraid she would sound like she was croaking. Mornings weren't really her thing.

However, thoughts kept seeping into her head.

_What if I suck because I didn't get enough sleep?_

_What if I mess up a little bit?_

_What if they don't like what we're wearing, and that's why we don't get the deal?_

More "what ifs" flowed into her brain, and Sam felt the nerves boiling up…literally.

"Shit," she said, sprinting to her toilet and lifting the lid just in time. It was more of a dry-heave, since she hadn't eaten anything yet, but there was still a little left over from dinner.

"Disgusting," she murmured as she shut the lid and flushed. Guess she wouldn't be eating breakfast.

After brushing her teeth again, leaving her bathroom, then coming back to grab a travel size toothpaste and toothbrush just in case it happened again, Sam headed downstairs.

Leila was sitting at the dinner table. "Do you want something to eat?"

"No thanks," Sam said, "Don't think I could keep it down."

Her mother gave her a glance, but didn't say anything.

"Are you about ready to leave?" Sam asked. "I want to get there a little bit before everyone else to check in and get the information and stuff, since I'm the one the studio's expecting."

"That's fine," Leila said, grabbing her keys and heading out the door. Sam followed.

They were mostly silent for the drive. When they did talk, it wasn't about anything in particular. Leila didn't mention the band, Chase, or the cancer, and in return Sam didn't mention any of those or Bryan either. It was about as comfortable a trip as it could've been, and Sam was impressed with their progress, although she didn't know how long it would last.

Too soon, in Sam's opinion, they arrived at the studio. She was excited, but the nerves were coming back again. She needed to find a bathroom before she checked in. Good thing she had brought the toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Do you want me to wait with you until someone else shows up?" Leila asked.

"No," Sam said, "I'll be fine. But mom? Thanks for driving me!"

"Sure," her mother said with the tiniest hint of a smile, and Sam thought that maybe she had enjoyed it.

Leila didn't add "good luck," but Sam hadn't been expecting her too. Her mom probably didn't really want the band to get a deal, because she thought it would be easier to get Sam to drop it if they weren't going to be famous. But she had brought her there, and Sam wanted a clean conscience to be able to say that she had tried to make peace with her mother.

Once she was inside, Sam asked the receptionist where the bathroom was and hurried off. After throwing up again and brushing her teeth, she took a few deep breaths and walked out to the lobby again.

"Um, I'm Sam Robbins from The Black Parade. Do you know where I'm supposed to check in and take care of all that information?"

The receptionist turned to her and handed her a stack of papers. "You need to fill these out. You can just sit here and do it. Here's a pen. When the rest of your group gets here I'll need them to sign the last page, everything else you can just sign."

Sam sighed, took the papers, and went and found a chair to sit in while she filled them out. The time seemed to pass quickly, but she was on the last sheet when she heard a voice.

"Woooo who's ready to make some noise?" It was Jesse. Cale followed behind him with a half smile on his face.

"Hey guys," Sam said. "I need you to sign these."

Liza and Johnny showed up a few minutes later, and before they knew it, BP was being ushered into a recording room. They would perform their songs like they would in a live show, but they were also being recorded at the same time for the producers to listen to.

They had time to do sound check, and like Sam had promised, they ran through a few bars of 'Kill All Your Friends' before all of the studio people came in.

Jason King, the guy from the Battle of the Bands, was sitting in the back. Next to him was someone BP didn't recognize. Then, in front of them, were some high up people from the recording studio.

The band had two options. If Jason King wanted to sign them, he would work with them right away and he would help them with finding a studio, equipment, or anything they needed. If he didn't, and the studio picked them up, they would be on their own for pretty much everything except the actual recording process. It wasn't ideal, but it was way better than the third option, which was that nothing happened and they went right back to school and being nothings.

It was time to start.

Sam fought the urge to find a bathroom one last time, and instead sucked it up and stepped up to the microphone.

"We're the Black Parade," she said, a little bit awkwardly, "and we're going to be performing _The Sharpest Lives, Sing, and Kill All Your Friends_."

King nodded, and the guy next to him gave what looked like an encouraging smile. The people from the studio gave no reaction. They were used to these things. They sat through a ton of auditions a week, and the whole thing was getting a little old.

Sam took a few more deep breaths before shouting out, "One, two, one, two, three, four!" And with that, The Black Parade began the most important performance of their lives yet.


	18. Youre just a sad song with nothin to say

_**~Sooooo... I wasn't going to have time to update but our school got cancelled for a snow day today! So thank the snow gods that you didn't have to wait longer :] Enjoy!~**_

**Eighteen**

_The Sharpest Lives _went well; at least, Sam thought it did. It was their "safe song." They almost always opened with it, and it was what could be called their "biggest hit" according to the few people who had actually seen them perform more than once.

She thought _Sing _had been better at practice, but that could have been expected because they had only performed it once before, and it was at some sophomore who was loose friends with Jesse's younger sister's birthday party. His sister, Amanda, didn't go to their school.

None of the producers looked particularly impressed, but they weren't supposed to, so Sam wasn't surprised. She knew they had to wow them with the last song, though. And while it was the newest, that could be their biggest advantage. It was the freshest, so it wouldn't be monotonous. And the band would really have to concentrate on their playing. They couldn't get lazy.

Plus, for Sam, it was the most meaningful to her at the moment. There wouldn't be faking any emotion in her voice at all in that song.

Cale closed the song out with a short guitar part that couldn't really be considered a solo, and the band just stood there, not really knowing what to do. Jason King was taking a few notes in his pad, while the producers in the front were all whispering together. King stood up.

"I'm ready to talk to them now, if you guys want to go outside and deliberate a little bit more," he said.

They nodded, and left the room, followed by King's friend, or whoever the guy next to him had been. BP's sheet had definitely not said anything about another person being there, so they assumed he was just an assistant.

"Hello," he said, "As I'm sure you know, I'm Jason King, and I produce records on my own label."

BP nodded. They knew about him and King Records.

"I'll get straight to the point then. You guys have lots of talent, but it's raw." He sighed and shook his head. "If you'd just come around a few years earlier, or maybe a few years later, maybe it would've been different. The problem is right now's a tough time for the music industry. A band like you would really need some time to develop, I think, probably because of your age, and right now I just can't afford that. Money's scarce as it is, and with this economy I can't afford to take a year or two to tune you guys up. Right now, I need bands that are ready to go, that I would only need to spend a little bit of time and money on polishing up. I'm sorry."

The Black Parade was disappointed, but they tried not to let it show, Sam especially. She had been sure this was it, their big break. But they shook his hand anyway, and despite the way it worked out, they understood where he was coming from. He had been as nice as he could about it, and this was a cutthroat business, so they appreciated that.

They all shook his hand, and King was about to leave, when he turned around and said, handing something to Sam, "Here's my card. If in a few years you guys are still together, still want to get a deal, and haven't already, give me a call and set up another audition."

They thanked him again, then he left.

BP didn't really know what to say to each other. Technically, it wasn't a total failure, and they knew they shouldn't give up, but when they didn't get what they had really been hoping for, it was hard to see the silver lining.

They had to wait like twenty minutes before the rest of the company's people came in. It was the longest twenty minutes of their lives. They were so nervous. Now everything relied on them thinking the band was ready to record right away. But at least there were multiple opinions there, and hopefully some of them would like BP.

The men finally came in. There were five of them in all. They all sat awkwardly without saying anything for a few seconds. Four of the company people looked to the one in the middle. Apparently he was the leader. They were all waiting for him to say something.

Finally he opened his mouth and said, "I'm going to be honest with you. We have no desire to ever sign you."

The Black Parade tried to hide their shock, but didn't do a very good job. Johnny's jaw actually dropped. They knew it was a rough business, and people didn't sugarcoat, but they didn't really expect that.

"You don't really have talent, sorry, but it's the truth," he continued. "We don't think you work well together." He turned to Sam. "You have a decent voice, but it's nothing special." Then he turned to Cale. "You're the only one that probably ever has a shot at making it anywhere. You're pretty darn good on a guitar. As for the rest of you, you should probably concentrate your efforts elsewhere."

They were literally stunned. Never had they expected to be told that. Sure they hadn't been one hundred percent sure that they would get a deal, but they didn't think they would be told they sucked.

The man kept going. "And honestly, no one really cares about your problems. That's something you should learn. Yeah, life is tough, but we don't want to hear a bunch of teenagers whining about their problems. If you want a shot with someone else, try writing other songs, because these basically have nothing to say."


	19. Who they want you to be

**Nineteen**

The producer people left, and The Black Parade just continued to stare with open mouths. They didn't know what to think.

"Well…" Johnny started, but trailed off.

"Uh, yeah," said Jesse. "I guess that didn't go quite how we hoped."

"Yeah, I guess not," Liza murmured.

Cale remained silent. It was awkward to be told you were the one person in the group that had enough talent.

"Guys," he started, but Jesse cut him off.

"Don't worry about it. Not your words." But he sounded a little bitter, and none of the others would look at him.

Cale sighed. He didn't want the band giving up and breaking up over this. They had worked too hard, dealt with too much shit. He was figuring out the words in his head when he noticed Sam for the first time. She looked bad—like really depressed. He knew she had probably taken this hard.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, "I'm fine." But she didn't sound fine. The rest of the band picked up on it, and just like that, the tensions were dissolved.

"We'll be fine," Liza said. "We'll get through this, don't worry. We're not breaking up."

"Good," Sam said. "'Cause this is about all I've got left. You guys would be truly evil if you made me spend my time at home."

They weren't smiling, but at least they were joking and coming close. None of them looked depressed anymore.

"So what now?" Johnny asked.

"I guess we go back to our routine. School, practice, homework—maybe—then more school and practice," Sam said.

Jesse made a face at the homework part. "Why didn't I just get my GED?"

"Because you know if you left us to rot in that shithole we call a school, while you ran around free, we'd kill you," Johnny said simply, without even thinking.

"I guess that's true," Jesse said. "Even I'm not that mean."

This got a lopsided smile out of Johnny.

"Come on," Liza said, "let's get our stuff and get out of here."

"I don't ever want to see this place again," Johnny mumbled.

"Yeah, me neither," said Jesse. "But it's okay, because when we're famous, we can come back here and visit and then they'll be pissed because they were the first people who had a chance to sign us!"

That got a few more smiles, and the band was in a better mood. Not a great one, but better than they had been in when they finished talking to the company.

Then, they heard a knock on the door. It slowly opened and the man who had been sitting next to Jason King during the audition came forward.

BP looked up from their equipment. They wondered what he was doing here, and who he was.

"Hello," he said, "My name's Michael McKinley."

"Hi?" said Sam.

"I work with Jason, sort of. I guess I'm like his apprentice." He would have to be, they guy only looked like he was like twenty-five. He was tall, and fairly muscular, with short brown hair that spiked up in the front.

"Look, I think you guys have a ton of potential. And, no offense to Jason, he's great, but I think he might be getting a little too old to be the one that picks out the bands. I think you guys are fresh, new, and what people would want to hear. I think you're something different, you're songs are different. They're about stuff that's real." He was saying what BP wanted to hear, and he seemed genuine.

"I'm leaving Jason's company. King Records is great, but it's not what I want to do. I want to be something different, you know? So I'm gonna strike out on my own, and since you guys didn't get offers from anyone today, I'm going to make you one. Do you want to be the first band I sign on McKinley Records? It'd be tough at first. I only have the money in my pocket and the money I've been saving, but what do you say?"

Sam wanted to jump in the air and scream 'YES!' but she knew that this was an important decision. Plus, in the case of her, Johnny, and Cale, their parents would need to co-sign the contract.

"We would obviously need to talk it out together first," Sam said.

"Yeah, I understand. Do you want to talk now, or give me a call later?"

"Can you give us five minutes?" Sam asked.

Michael left and Sam turned to The Black Parade.

"What do you guys think?"

"I think it's a little unsure and risky," Cale said, "but I don't know if we're going to get a better offer."

"Yeah, you heard what they all said," Jesse added. "They think we need more time to polish up."

Sam didn't say anything, but she was hoping they would agree to take the offer, because she wasn't sure how much time there was left, at least for her.

Liza seemed to know exactly what Sam was thinking in that weird way they had, and she said, "I think we should go for it. There're no guarantees we'll get another chance, and yes this is risky, but what's the worst thing that could happen? We gave it a shot and didn't get any money out of it. Oh well, it's not like we're going to get any money playing in my garage. And McKinley seems nice, and he's younger, so he'd understand us better."

They all turned to Johnny, who, for once, hadn't said anything yet. "Dudes, don't look at me, I'm all for it!" he grinned.

"Well so am I," Sam said, "so let's get McKinley back in here and tell him we're all for it. Obviously, some of us will have to get our parents to sign the contract because we're still seventeen, so we'll have to call him later and have our parents come meet with him, but we can at least let him know that _we're _for it."

Cale was closest to the door so he walked over and let Michael back in.

"Well, what do you guys think?" he asked.

"I think," Sam said with a smile, "If it were one hundred percent up to us, we're in."

**_~Ooooh what will happen? Thoughts? Opinions? Reviews? :] Gracias!~_**


	20. We all wanna party

_**~Woooooo! 20 Chapters! This is exciting! Okay, sorry, back to the story~**_

**Twenty**

"So what should we do now?" Cale asked.

The Black Parade had finished exchanging information with Michael McKinley and left the studio, dragging their equipment to their cars. Now they had all their stuff loaded up, and they didn't know how to spend the rest of the day.

"Maybe we should tell our parents first," Liza said. "Especially you babies that still need them to sign your contract."

Johnny snorted, but pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Hey? Mom? I've got something to tell you," he said as he walked away.

Cale glanced at Sam and said, "Might as well." Then he pulled out his phone and walked away too.

"Good luck," Jesse told her as Sam stared at her phone screen. She sighed and dialed.

"Sam?" Leila's voice asked.

"Yeah, it's me. We got done with the audition."

"Oh?" she said. Her mother didn't actually ask, but Sam heard the question in her voice. That was how she knew that Leila was actually curious.

"Well we didn't get an offer from King or the studio, but there was a guy who's starting his own label who wanted to sign us. I won't go into detail here over the phone, but we'll talk later, okay?"

"Fine." Sam heard the exasperation in her mother's voice.

"Alright, bye," Sam hung up.

She walked back to where BP was congregated, next to Johnny's truck. They were all looking at her, worried.

"Well it could've gone a lot worse," Sam said. "She actually didn't tell me know and agreed to talk about it later when I'd give her the details."

"Wow," Jesse said, "two miracles in one day. I think that calls for a celebration!"

"Like what?" Liza teased, "Us going to a party?"

Jesse thought about it for a minute. Not coming up with anything, he sighed. "Hey, I tried."

Johnny's face lit up. "My parents are out of town visiting my brother!" Johnny's brother went to college in California, far away from their New Jersey home. "We can party by ourselves at my house!"

"Yeah!" Liza and Jesse's faces lit up as they yelled at the same time.

"Hey, have you guys ever gotten drunk before?" Jesse asked.

Sam, Liza and Cale shook their heads no. Johnny nodded. "I know where my dad keeps the beer," he said.

"We should totally try it!" Liza said. "We just got a fucking record deal! We deserve to party!"

Jesse and Johnny were nodding emphatically. Cale looked at Sam.

"Ah, hell," she said, "let's go for it!"

"Alright!" Johnny yelled while Jesse whooped.

"Let's go get our stuff," Sam said, climbing over the edge of Jesse's car and hoping in the passenger seat without even asking him for a ride.

"Meet you guys back at Johnny's place at five?" Jesse asked, getting his keys out of his pocket. He turned to Sam. "Does that give you enough time to get your stuff and talk to your mom?"

"Yeah, it should."

"Five sounds good to me," Liza said.

Cale nodded and Johnny said, "Hell yeah! We're gonna have our first crazy party EVER! We're rock stars now baby!"

Johnny got into his truck, Liza in her VW Bug, and Cale in his gray SUV. Sam wasn't exactly sure what kind of car it was. It was a 5-seater, that was about all she knew. They all drove off and headed their separate ways.

Sam and Jesse talked about meaningless things the entire way back, both of them having a better time than they'd had in awhile, especially Sam. It was nice to be able to forget about things for a little while.

She had to go to the doctor on Monday. That meant she had two more days to completely forget about everything that was coming. Two more days of fun.

Jesse dropped her off at her front door and she went inside.

"I'm home," she called out. There was no answer so she walked into the kitchen. No one. Then she walked into the living room and found her mother reading a book.

"Hi," she said.

Leila looked up from her book.

"We're going to sign with Michael McKinley," Sam said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, here's the information. He's just starting out, we'll be the first band he signs, but I think it will turn out okay. We know it's a risk, but we didn't get any other offers, so we might as well take it. I mean the worst thing that could happen is we end up right where we started." Sam paused. "But I need you to sign the contract with me because I'm seventeen."

Leila was silent.

"Please, mom, I really really want this! I want this more than I've ever wanted anything."

"We'll see," Leila finally said. Sam knew that was the best she was going to get, so she didn't try to argue.

"Thanks. I'm gonna head over to Johnny's for a little while, okay?"

"How are you getting there?"

"Jesse's picking me up."

"Fine, then."

Sam ran upstairs to change into more comfortable gray jeans and a black and red striped longsleeve. Then she touched up her makeup and hair, grabbed her bag and headed downstairs to wait for Jesse.


	21. If I crash on the couch

**Twenty-One**

He was a few minutes late, like usual, but Sam yelled goodbye to her mother and sister and ran out the door. She realized she forgot a coat when the frigid air hit her skin, but she didn't care. Jesse had the top on his car now that it was later in the day.

They were the last ones to get there. Liza's car was already parked in the closest spot to Johnny's driveway, and Cale's was in the other one. They had to park across the street, which wasn't that far, but they still sprinted across the way because they were cold.

Laughing breathlessly, Jesse rang the doorbell as Sam bent over. No one answered.

"Fuck," Jesse swore and pressed it again.

Still no one came.

"Damn it, I'm cold," Sam said and started banging on the door. She heard someone wrestling about inside. "Cale? Johnny? Liza? Someone open the goddamn door!"

The door opened and Cale stood in front of them. "Oops," he said sheepishly.

Jesse and Sam shouldered their way in. "Close the door, it's fucking freezing," Jesse yelled. "Yo! Johnny! Forget about some people?"

Johnny came out of the door leading to the garage, hands full of beer. He had a stupid grin on his face that made Sam think he had already had a few. "My bad dudes."

They followed him to the basement, where Liza was lounged on a couch flipping through channels on the TV. "Hey guys!" she smiled, and Sam could tell she had already been drinking.

"Well, go for it!" Johnny said, spreading his arms to include the entire room.

In the center were the TV and two couches. Liza was laying across one, taking up the entire thing. In the left corner there was a ping pong table, and to the right there was a bar. Johnny took the beer over and set some out on the counter and put the rest in the mini-fridge.

"Help yourselves," he said.

"Don't mind if I do," Jesse said, sauntering over to the bar.

Over the course of the next few hours, The Black Parade got completely plastered. Sam had never had alcohol before, but found the taste good enough to drink. Plus she had decided it was time to live it up a little. She had no intention of becoming an alcoholic, simply having a fun time at a party just once.

It was about eleven o'clock when Jesse suddenly stood up. He had been lying on the floor—passed out, Sam thought—when a thought suddenly struck him. "Iw hafta take Sham back home," he slurred. Sam looked away from the TV. She and Liza had been sitting there watching some stupid comedy show that wouldn't have been funny if it hadn't been for the beer.

"Oh shit," she mumbled looking at the clock. "I don't wanna go home!"

"Me neither!" Liza pouted.

"Hey guys!" Johnny said, jumping up from where he had been asleep, which was on top of the ping pong table. No one really knew how he had ended up there. "I've got an idea! How 'bout we have a sleepover? We can paint nails and everythin!"

In the back of her mind somewhere, Sam knew that statement should have struck her as funny and odd, but she was too drunk to get it. So instead she gave an enthusiastic, "Yeah!"

"I need to call my mom," Sam said, attempting to stand. "Oh shit," she said as she fell flat on her face. She had tripped over Cale who was out cold. She stared to giggle. Then Liza joined in, and suddenly the entire band was laughing hysterically. Cale sat up and smashed his head between two hands.

"_Make it go away!_" he screamed. "Too much noise!" Then he fell flat on his back and was out again, which made everyone else laugh even more.

"Phone, phone, phone," Sam sang, "where are you?"

She found it sitting on the bar and picked it up, along with another bottle. This one was green and pretty, and she didn't think she had tried one of that kind yet. "Mommy!" she called into the phone. "Mommy?"

"You have to dial first dipshit," Johnny said, laughing.

"Oh."

"On second thought, maybe you should just text. She'll know you're drunk."

"Okie dokie!" Sam said, and sent the text message saying she was spending the night at Liza's. "She'll neeeeever know!"

At one in the morning, they were all awake again. The effects were starting to wear off in the sense that they could actually stay away and function. They were still completely hammered.

"Let's play a game!" Jesse said.

"No, fuck you," Liza said. "I want to watch TV and sleeeeeeeeep."

"I'm hungry," Sam complained.

"Me too," added Cale.

Johnny found a pizza in the fridge and they ate it, none of them conscious enough to wonder how old it was. Then they messed around doing absolutely nothing for another hour before people started conking out.

Liza was the first, and she fell asleep taking up an entire couch. Johnny passed out sitting on a bar stool, face down on the counter next. Then Jesse somehow found his way to the top of the ping pong table and fell asleep there.

Cale was the last one to fall asleep. But when he did, he noticed Sam curled up on the other side of the couch with her head in his lap. She shivered a little in her sleep and Cale frowned. He took off his coat and put it over her torso. Then he laid his head back and fell asleep as well.


	22. Spent the night dancing drunk I suppose

**Twenty-Two**

"Shit," Sam muttered as she woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her life. _What is going on? _Slowly the past events made their way back into her brain. _I was totally plastered. This must be what a hangover feels like. _

Well, hangovers freakin' sucked! She lifted her head up and realized something was covering her. It was a black leather jacket, Cale's. Sam struggled to remember why she had Cale's jacket. At the back of her mind she thought she remembered herself passing out on his lap.

_That's a little awkward, _she laughed to herself.

Liza was still asleep on the couch. Her face was buried under the pillows, and she was lying on her stomach with her left arm and leg hanging off the edge. There was definitely some snoring coming from there.

Jesse was on top of a ping pong table. Sam wondered how he got up there. But, then again, it was Jesse so she didn't really think much about it. Johnny was passed out at the bar. Go figure.

Sam shuffled up the stairs and into Johnny's kitchen. Cale was standing at the counter. Hearing Sam, he turned around.

"Coffee?" he said quietly, almost whispering.

"What?" Sam asked.

Cale winced and put his hands over his ears. "Too loud!"

"Sorry," Sam whispered. "But, yeah, I'll take some. Does it get rid of hangovers?"

"I don't know. Probably?"

"Ah, hell, go for it."

Cale got out a second mug and poured himself and Sam some coffee. Sam had never been a fan of coffee, but it seemed like it would help her headache. But at the same time, she wasn't thinking straight. Maybe caffeine would just make it worse. Sam didn't really care.

"This is good," she said, "and I hate coffee."

"Special secret recipe," Cale said with a wink.

They talked for a little while, quietly because Cale's head still hurt, when they heard a bang downstairs followed by lots of swearing.

Cale and Sam rushed down the stairs. Sam fell into Cale at one point, and he just saved them from tumbling down the stairs by grabbing the railing at the last moment.

Johnny was leaning back in the bar stool, laughing his head off and pointing. They followed his finger and gaze to see Jesse in a heap on the floor.

"What happened?" Cale asked.

"That dipshit over there," she started. Cale put his hands over his ears again, but Liza didn't notice. She just kept talking, "He was rolling around and moaning really loud—"

"My head hurt," Jesse groaned.

"—and fell off the ping pong table. It was so fucking hilarious!"

"Maybe we just weren't meant to be drunk, partying rock stars," Sam said, looking at Cale who was still holding his head.

"Yeah, maybe not," he muttered.

"Ah, it's just your first time, you'll get used to it!" Johnny said.

"Somehow I don't think so," Sam said to herself.

"So how do you get rid of the hangovers?" Cale asked desperately.

"Water," Johnny said with a face. "I hate water."

"What about coffee?"

"Coffee?" Liza laughed.

"I don't know," Johnny said. "I bet it just depends on how you handle caffeine. Why are you looking at me like I'm some expert?"

"Cuz you're the one who's gotten drunk before, and you seem perfectly fine now!" Cale said.

"Nah, dude, I'm just used to hangovers. Sometimes I steal my dad's beer and sneak it up to my room and get drunk by myself. I know I'd get in trouble if they caught me, so I learned to hide it."

"Dude, that is a legit depressing story," Jesse said from the floor by the table.

"Don't worry about it. It was actually kinda fun."

Sam personally wasn't a big fan of hangovers, but she didn't say anything. And Johnny wasn't an alcoholic, so whatever.

"Let's just not get arrested for underage drinking," she said.

"Fine," Johnny said. "We'll only have crazy-ass parties for special occasions. We'll be _boring _rock stars."

"That's what I like to hear, because it means we'll be living, _free _rock stars."

Johnny stuck out his tongue, but he secretly agreed.

BP all managed to stand, with a little difficulty, and make it up the stairs to the kitchen. Johnny walked over to the sink to get a glass then murmured something unintelligible and changed his mind. He reached into the fridge, and for a second Sam thought he was going to grab more alcohol. She was about to say something when he pulled out Mountain Dew.

"Like I said, I hate water."

"Hell yeah! Gimme one," Liza said.

"Me too," said Jesse.

"I'll stick with coffee," said Sam.

"No kidding. Me too," Cale said.

They talked and planned stuff for the bad for awhile. They were going to set up a meeting with McKinley and their parents on Wednesday so they could talk about getting a contract signed. Then they would work really hard and get a few more songs done. Then they could record their first album!

It was so exciting!

"I'm so happy," Sam said, out of the blue.

This caused everyone to stop for a moment. There wasn't a whole lot that Sam was ever happy about, and once they thought about it, they didn't know if they'd ever heard her say she was happy in general.

"Seriously you guys, I needed this."

Suddenly they were all hugging and the girls and Johnny were crying. They may be outcasts and dysfunctional—really dysfunctional—but they were a family.

They broke the group hug and all went back to messing around in the kitchen trying to find food.

"We should just move in somewhere together, the five of us," Sam said. "We could totally survive on our own if we were together. Then we could practice whenever we wanted, without my mother's constant nagging at me, and, best of all, we wouldn't have to go to school."

"I'm in!" Jesse piped up.

They laughed over their fantasy and planned what they would do when they were on tour when Sam started to see black spots dancing on the edge of her vision. She squinted her eyes and they started appearing more. Suddenly they were blocking her vision, and the last thing she was able to make out was Cale's worried face before she felt herself falling and her head hitting the ground.


	23. We are all a bunch of liars

_**~Okay- Just wanted to say that I have officially reached 100 pages in Microsoft Word with this story! Milestone! Yay! This special chapter is dedicated to those of you who are reading this and had to wait for it! Haha, but seriously, thanks you guys! I do appreciate it. It forces me to actually stick with my story knowing that other people want to read it too! Alright, now that that sentimental moment is out of the way, back to reading!~**_

_**W/ luv**_

_**~T**_

**Twenty-Three**

"Oh shit."

"We've really done it now."

"Guys, what do we do?"

"How the fuck should I know? Who made me expert?"

"It's your house."

"Yeah, and it was your beer."

"Holy shit, that hurt," Sam said as she started to sit up.

Cale and Liza were right next to her. Cale put his arm behind her back and helped her sit up.

"Don't sit up too fast," he warned. "You might black out again."

"What the heck happened?" she asked.

"I don't know. You probably blacked out. Maybe it had something to do with the hangover mixed with caffeine. Guess you should have stuck to water." Cale said the last sentence with a little bit of a grin.

She gave him a look back, and said, "You're the one who made me coffee, dipshit. I bet you poisoned it!"

Cale pretended to be offended, clutching his hand over his heart and staggering away. Then he ran into Jesse, who shoved him forward. Cale lost his balance and fell flat on his face, causing the rest of the band to laugh.

After settling down and wiping the tears from their eyes, Johnny came over to Sam with a glass of water and an ibuprofen. "This should help," he said.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Aw, shit," Liza said. "I've gotta get home. Stacia's plane leaves this evening, and it's already one o'clock." She hurried downstairs to the basement to grab her bag.

"Yeah, I guess I'd better head too," Cale said. "My parents might actually wonder where I am. I don't remember if I told them I was staying here or not…I was pretty drunk last night. Shit! I don't smell like alcohol, do I?" He ran up to Johnny and breathed in his face.

"Fuck! No! But your breath smells like shit! Get it out of my face!"

"Okay, good. I'm outta here then. Thanks for having the party at your house dude. Sam can you get a ride from someone?"

"Yeah, Jesse'll take me home. Won't you, Jess?"

"Sure."

"Alright then," Cale said, "see you guys tomorrow."

He left and they heard crashes and bangs from downstairs.

"Goddamnit! _Where _is my purse?" Liza screamed.

"Check under the sofa," Sam called down.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Got it! Thanks!"

"No problem."

Liza left, and Jesse and Sam followed not too long after.

"Thanks, man," Jesse said. "We're totally doing this again!"

"Yeah," Sam said, "Except I'm not so sure I'm gonna get drunk next time. Or for sure I won't drink coffee the next morning."

"Good plan," Johnny said. "See you later."

Jesse dropped Sam off at her house and drove off. She had forgotten her key, so she knocked on the door. It was cold, and she didn't have a coat. She knocked again, and finally Angela opened the door.

"Hi," her sister said.

"Hey. What's up?" Sam said, entering the house and laying her bag on the table by the door.

"Nothing. Oh, but I think Bryan called."

Sam hadn't checked her phone yet today, and she was definitely so drunk last night that she wouldn't have comprehended it ringing.

"Oh? And how did that go?"

"I don't know if it was Bryan. Mom just hung up on someone, and was in a really pissy mood afterward, so I assumed it was him. No one else makes her _that _annoyed." Angela paused and bit her lower lip. "Actually, _you _might."

Sam snickered as her little sister skipped up the stairs and back to her room.

"Sam? Are you home?"

It was Leila. Sam knew she'd better go.

"Yeah, mom. It's me."

"Come in here."

That didn't sound good.

"Yeah?"

"Are you hungover?"

Shit. "What?"

"I asked if you were hungover."

"Oh, um, no," Sam lied.

"You look like it."

"Oh?" Sam countered. "And you would know?"

"Don't use that tone with me."

Sam sighed. She needed to suck up her pride and be on her best behavior if she ever hoped to convince her mom to sign a recording contract.

"Sorry. I guess I just get a little defensive and snappy when the first thing I'm accused of when I walk through the door is being hungover. I just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."

Leila narrowed her eyes, and Sam sensed that her mother was letting her off.

"Did you think about Mr. McKinley's offer?"

"Yes, Sam. And you know what I think about this band of yours."

"Oh, come on! Can't you just accept that this is what I want to do with my life? Or what's left of it?"

Bringing the cancer into it always managed to clamp Leila up. It might have been a bit of a low blow, but Sam didn't care. She wanted that deal really bad.

"I'll meet with him."

Take what you can get, Sam told herself. "Thanks."

She went up to her room and called Cale.

"I'm worried she won't sign it!"

"I don't know," Cale mused. "I mean, I brought it up with my parents too, and even they weren't one hundred percent sold on it. They think my grades will drop." He snorted. "As if I get good grades. I'm happy with my F's and D's, and C's are freaking awesome! But at least I turn eighteen in two weeks."

"Yeah," Sam said. "I mean, worst comes to worst, I'll wait it out, but I still have two months till my birthday!"

"But you said she agreed to a meeting with McKinley?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. I think she's just looking for some real justification to tell me no. She'll say he's too young, or inexperienced, or something. She'll find a way to spoil this for me like she spoils everything!"

"It'll work out," Cale said, "You'll see."

Sam sighed. She trusted him. "Alright, if you say so."

"So," he said, changing the subject, "you go to the doctor tomorrow?"

"Oh," she said, "yeah. Actually, I'd kinda forgotten about that."

"Will they start anything?"

By 'anything,' Sam knew he meant chemo.

"No, I'm pretty sure nothing like that will happen for another couple weeks." She tried not to sound scared.

But somehow, Cale knew what she was thinking. "You'll beat it, I promise."

Sam smiled through her tears. She wasn't so sure, but she didn't want him to think she was giving up hope.

"I know."


	24. I am not afraid to keep on living

**Twenty-four**

It didn't really register to Sam until she was actually sitting _in _the office. She was going to be spending a lot of time there. And a lot of time at home feeling sick and useless. Good thing she had the band, or she wasn't sure she'd really want to keep going.

Leila checked her watch, then the clock on the wall. Their appointment was set for two o'clock. It was two thirty. That wasn't very reassuring, Sam was thinking. What if something else was wrong?

Dr. James Reed rushed through the door, looking flustered. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was taking care of a few things."

"Like checking the results again?" Leila snapped.

He gave them both a pitying look. Sam promptly glared at him. "I was getting things set up with the nurses." He didn't need to say it. Sam knew he meant the chemo nurses.

"Now, Sam I'm going to ask you to head to the back to have some tests done. We'll be able to start your…treatment in a few days, but I need some tests first."

Without saying anything, Sam got up and opened up the door.

"Mary will be here shortly to show you where it's at," Dr. Reed said.

"It's okay," Sam said with a small smile, "I know where to go." She set off down the hall.

The nurse, Mary, met her in front of the room. It was room six, down at the end of the hall. Mary entered first, holding the door open for Sam. She hesitated, closing her eyes for a second.

The last time she had been in that room had been the last time her father took a breath. It was the room he had died in. Clearly no one seemed to notice, and Sam wasn't going to inconvenience them by asking them to move all their equipment somewhere else.

"Is everything alright?" Mary asked. "I know this can be really scary."

"That's not it at all," Sam said in a quiet voice. "I just—" She hesitated. "Never mind."

Obviously Mary didn't know her history. If she did, she would have figured it out. So instead of bursting out in tears like she really wanted to, Sam sucked it up and went inside to get those freaking tests done with so she could get out of there as fast as possible.

They actually didn't take that long. There were a few x-rays, blood tests, and other stuff that Sam didn't really know what the point was for. But then again, she guessed that was why she wasn't the doctor.

"Here, I'll walk you back to the examination room," Mary said.

"It's alright. I actually know my way around here pretty well."

Sam left Mary with a confused expression on her face.

Dr. Reed and Leila were looking over some papers when Sam entered the room.

"Oh, Sam, you're done," the doctor said. "Now I was just going over these with your mother, and we were looking at treatment options. Now, I know you're not eighteen, but I want you to know—"

Sam cut him off. "Do whatever you think. I don't even want to know. I just want to concentrate on my music."

Leila's gaze narrowed. Sam simply stared levelly back at her. "That's what I really care about now."

Dr. Reed, sensing tension between mother and daughter, pressed on ahead.

"Alright. We'll do the most aggressive one, if that's okay with you?" he said to Leila.

"That's fine." She was still glaring at her daughter.

Dr. Reed was starting to feel really uncomfortable. There was obviously some animosity between the two of them. Maybe he needed to recommend that they go to family counseling or something. But a second glance at the two of him made him think that that probably wouldn't work. They were shooting daggers at each other.

He cleared his throat. "Alright. We can start the chemo in as soon as four days." He didn't try to soften it now, the sooner they came to terms with what was going to happen, the better. Although, in his professional opinion, it seemed like the mother needed to accept it more than the actual patient.

More like the mother needed to accept the daughter—in general.

But he wasn't a licensed psychologist, so he kept his opinion to himself.

Leila tried to schedule an appointment as soon as possible, four days from now.

"Uh, mom?" Sam said, crossing her arms, raising an eyebrow and tapping her foot.

"Yes." Leila feigned innocence.

"Don't we have _something going on_ in four days?"

The meeting with Michael McKinley.

"Oh, right, of course. I guess it slipped my mind."

"I bet it did," Sam said with a sweet smile. "How about next weekend?"

"We have an opening on Saturday at ten," the receptionist said, oblivious to the glares between Sam and Leila.

"That sounds good," Sam said, with a pointed look at her mom.

"Fine." Leila seemed to say that a lot in dealing with her daughter.

The car ride, like almost every other freaking car ride they ever took together, was silent.

"Well that was fun!" Sam said sarcastically because all that silence was really starting to get to her.

Leila sighed in frustration. For once, she couldn't even come up with a response.

Well that was a first. Sam felt proud of herself.

Leila pulled in the driveway and Sam hopped out of the car as soon as she put it in park. Then she hurried up to her room. She wanted nothing more than to call a band rehearsal _right now. _

"Hi! Did everything go okay?"

Sam looked down at her younger sister. She really _really _just wanted to go talk to Liza or Cale or one of her bandmates, but then she felt bad. She never spent time with Angela, because of the age gap, but also because of the family gap. Angela had never really known her father, especially not like Sam had. And she didn't really know Bryan. Not to mention the fact that Angela didn't have any of the chronic sadness that she did. Leila made sure of that. Her little sister was definitely spoiled.

But Angela was seeking her out. And she was probably scared. She couldn't remember what it was like—going to the hospital daily, sleeping there. So she didn't know what to expect.

"Everything went fine, sweetie," Sam said. "The doctor is really good, the best in the area, and he mapped out a…treatment plan. So everything's under control." That last part was a bit of a lie. Sam didn't really know. She was sort of just guessing.

"Oh, okay." Sometimes Angela seemed younger than she actually was to Sam. This was one of those times.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna head upstairs. I have to call the band," Sam said with a wink.

"Ooh, okay. I won't tell mom."

Sam almost laughed. "Thanks."

"No problem," Angela smiled and headed back to her room.


	25. Play the game and take the band real far

_**A/N: Soooo I am definitely knee-deep in late-night rehearsals for my play, but it opens this week so by next week I will have more free time to hopefully update! Also, my computer has been randomly been breaking down for a few days at a time and then, like right now, deciding to be okay, so I really really hope it gets fixed soon. But I just wanted you all to know that I have every intention of finishing this and my other story. I'm not giving up, even if it seems like my updates are become less and less. **_

**Twenty-five**

Everyone sat completely still. Michael McKinley sat at the head of the table, staring at the Black Parade—and their parents. Liza and Jesse, of course, were eighteen and didn't need their parents to sign the contract. Liza's parents, being the nice people that they were, were both there anyway. Jesse's weren't, but they weren't all that close anyway.

Leila was glaring ahead. Johnny's mom was there, looking kind of bored. Sam knew she didn't care what her son did as long as it didn't bother the rest of them or end up in his getting arrested—which made her wonder if she knew about their little party. Probably not.

Cale's dad was with him, looking all businessy in his suit. It was probably meant to intimidate McKinley. It was working. The guy looked like he wanted to throw up. Which honestly made Sam like him even more. She always looked like she wanted to throw up before a show too—and usually did.

It was way to quiet. The only sound was Jesse nervously tapping his fingers on the table. Just when Sam thought she was going to explode, McKinley started to talk.

"Um, okay, well you guys are all here to sign a recording contract with McKinley records. It's a new business, so you'll be the first band we record. Now," he turned to the parents, "I know I'm clearly new and don't have experience, but I do believe in your kids, and I think they're perfect to start out with because they're just like me. And I think this type of low-key record deal will benefit them while they are still in school. It won't be nearly as demanding as if they signed with a larger label."

He talked a little bit more with details that Sam didn't really pay attention to. She obviously was not a detail oriented person. Besides, she saw the look on her mom's face. It didn't look good for her.

After McKinley finished talking, He left the room to give BP and their parents some time to discuss. Liza talked it out with her parents, but they were all for it. Jesse just went ahead and went with McKinley. He was going to sign, he was old enough.

Johnny's mom told him she was fine with it as long as he didn't bother them too much or get arrested. He also had to stay in school, although she didn't particularly care about his grades.

"I don't know," Cale's dad said.

"Dad, come on. Just co-sign it with me. I turn eighteen soon anyway."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes."

"You understand the ramifications?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll sign it."

"Well," Sam asked her mother. "What did you think of him?"

"It obviously won't work out," Leila said. "You're wasting your time chasing this stupid dream. He has no experience."

"Well, if that's your only objection, I'm willing to take the chance. Will you please sign the contract?"

"No."

"It won't make me give up the band," Sam said levelly.

"I'm not signing it."

"Why? You don't want me to have fun in my last months?"

"Stop playing that card."

"I'll play that card if I want to. Now, will you sign the freaking contract?"

"No."

"I'm just going to sign it when I'm eighteen, so why delay the inevitable?"

"You'll do no such thing," Leila said. Like Sam would actually listen.

"Are you going to sign?"

"No."

"Please, just think about me for once!"

"I am thinking about you, and I don't want you throwing away your future."

"What future!" Sam screamed, and walked away.

Leila grabbed her purse and keys and turned to her daughter. "We're leaving."

"I'm not," Sam said. "I'll get a ride home. I don't even want to see you."

"You're grounded," Leila warned.

"Who gives a fuck," Sam shot back.

Leila, aware for the first time that other people could hear them, turned on her heel and stalked away.

"God my mom sucks," Sam said miserably, sinking down next to Liza and her parents. Mrs. Buchanan put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Can you guys just sign it instead?"

Michael McKinley walked into the room then, followed by Jesse.

"No go, guys," Sam said bitterly. "At least for another two months."

She hated the way that their faces fell, the way it was her fault. Well, her stupid mother's fault.

"Wait," McKinley said. "Two months?"

Sam nodded. "Two freaking months till I turn eighteen."

"And we graduate!" Jesse said cheerfully.

"Okay," McKinley said thoughtfully. "Well, the rest of you plain on signing, correct?" They nodded.

"I'm signing in May!" Sam said. "I don't care what she says. She'll have no power over me."

"The rest of you can sign now, then," McKinley said, "as The Black Parade, so I can start getting stuff ready. But I'm assuming you'll still need time to write and perfect a few more songs before you're ready to record, right?"

They nodded.

"Good," he said. "We won't be able to make the record or have you guys officially perform for McKinley records until Sam signs, but I was planning on allowing a month and a half for that developmental stuff anyway. What's two more weeks?"

_A lot_ Sam thought bitterly at her mother, but didn't say anything.

"Does that sound good to everyone?" McKinley asked, including the parents.

They all nodded, and everyone but Sam signed the contract. The Black Parade—at least part of it—officially had a record deal!


	26. Nobody gonna take my life

**Twenty-six**

The next two months passed slowly for Sam. She knew it was only a matter of time until she could sign the contract, but it still annoyed her that they all had to wait on her.

Finally the day came. The Black Parade had already written enough songs for their first album, so all they had to do was record it. Then they would be able to go on tour and do everything that they wanted to as a band. It was exciting.

Sam woke up in a better mood than she had been in a long time. BP was going on a road trip to New York that night to play a gig and then go party, and, best of all, there was nothing Leila could say to stop her.

Sam actually _skipped _down the stairs to the kitchen.

"We aaaaaallllllllll waaaaaannnaaaa paaaaartay when the funeral eeennnnnnndddddddddddssss!" she sang.

Leila and Angela looked up from their breakfast.

"Happy Birthday!" her younger sister said, running over to her and giving her a hug. "I made you stuff!"

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked. "Like what?"

Angela held out a homemade card. It was really sweet actually. It was pink and in the shape of a heart.

"Thanks," she said.

"And I made you a cupcake!"

Well, it was a random gift, but it was a tasty gift. Sam had to admit that her sister was a darn good cook.

"Oh and I got you one other thing! Come on! I'll show you!" Angela grabbed Sam's hand and dragged her up the stairs to her room. She went over to her closet and pulled out a bag. "Here," she said, handing it to Sam.

Sam opened it and pulled out a top. It had capped sleeves and was pink, flowy, girly, and basically everything that Sam wasn't. But for some reason she absolutely loved it.

"Wow, thanks!"

"You like it?"

"Yeah, a ton. I'm going to wear it tonight."

"Where are you going?"

"Oh," Sam said, forgetting that no one besides her, McKinley and the band knew what their plan was tonight. "Well, you want to know a secret? I'm eighteen now, which means mom has no legal say over me anymore."

"Oh, you're going to sign the recording deal," Angela said. Sometimes Sam forgot her sister was older than she thought—and maybe a bit more intuitive too. Sam guessed she still thought of her as a baby.

"Yeah," Sam said. "And we're going to play our first official gig. Then work out the deals to record our first album."

"Wow," Angela said, amazed. "That's so cool. You're so cool."

"Thanks," Sam laughed. "But I won't be so cool around here once I tell mom."

"Are you going to go move in with Liza? Or Cale?"

"Only if she kicks me out. You need someone sane in this house."

She and Angela talked for a little while longer before Sam had to go get ready. She straightened her hair, noting how the red clashed a tiny bit with the pink from the shirt, but she didn't care. She wore her usual black skinny jeans and combat boots. Then she threw on a black leather bomber jacket to separate the pink and red of her hair. Grabbing her purse and I.D. and everything, she headed downstairs.

"Hey, mom?" she called tentatively.

"What? Are you going out?" Leila said from the kitchen.

"Yeah, and I think you know what I'm going to do. I told you two months ago."

"I do not want you signing that deal."

I'm a grown-up now, she wanted to scream. But the fact that she was grown-up enough to sign a record deal meant that she was grown-up enough to be respectful to her mother.

"With all due respect," which was none, Sam thought, "what you want me to do no longer matters. I'm eighteen now, and I can make my own decisions."

"You're signing your life away."

"That's a decision I'm willing to make."

"Then get out," Leila said. "Now."

Sam was expecting that type of reaction. She didn't know if her mom meant permanently, or just for right now. The only thing she knew was that she was making the right choice. She had gone through the first wave of chemo. It wasn't as intense, so she hadn't lost her hair yet, and it had only lasted two weeks, but it was enough to show Sam what she really wanted—and that was the band.

"Okay," she said, leaving the house.

Unfortunately her timing hadn't been quite on. Sam planned on their conversation taking a little bit longer, that way when she got kicked out, the band would be on their way to pick her up. Michael McKinley had rented a huge van and trailer to lug them and their equipment out to New York, just like a real band.

So Sam had some time to kill, and she wasn't just going to spend it sitting on the ground in front of her house. She wouldn't give her mother that satisfaction. Sam found that her nerves were getting much better, probably because she realized now how much she needed performing, but she still didn't know how good sitting and thinking would be.

As she turned a few corners and walked down another street, she passed an alley. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone head her way.

Oh crap. She was a freaking genius. Lost in her own thoughts, she had strayed to the sketchy part of the neighborhood.

Sam picked up her pace and headed back towards the end of her street. She heard footsteps behind her. Clutching her bag tighter to her chest and really really hoping that she wouldn't have to get in a fight—that would really ruin her hair—she broke into a light jog.

She reached the street, but still heard steps behind her. Sam spun around on her heel and saw a guy, probably in his twenties coming towards her. She adjusted her purse so that it was behind her and balled her hands into fists.

Then the van pulled up behind her and the door opened. Cale and Johnny jumped out.

"What's going on?" Cale asked.

"Nothing now," Sam said as the guy turned and ran the opposite direction.

"Why are you always the problem child?" Johnny asked, shaking his head as he followed her into the van.

"I don't know, ask my mother." That got some laughs. "Good timing, Mikey." Over the past few months the Black Parade had gotten a lot closer to Michael McKinley. The "Mikey" name had been Johnny's doing, but they all decided it fit.

"No problem. How did she take it by the way?"

"Eh, depends on your point of view. Let's just say it's a good think we'll be staying in New York tonight. I don't think I'd be let back in the house, but maybe by tomorrow."

"You can sleep in the van," Mikey offered.

"As tempting as that is, I might get sick all the time and have permanently damaged vocal chords."

He winced. "Alright, point taken. We'll figure it out. But now, I don't want any of you to worry. Sam, it's your eighteenth birthday. All of you, it's your first official gig. And you better believe afterwards we're going to party—legally of course," he added after seeing Johnny's hopeful face.

"Sound good?"

"Sounds good," they all chorused back.


	27. This ain't a party

**Author's Note**

**I'm soooooo sorry I haven't updated in like FOREVER! Life really got in the way, and I was busy with my other story- finishing it because it was so short. Then my stupid computer crashed AGAIN but I'm going to get it fixed!**

**I have this one planned out so hopefully I will keep updating soon. Just a forewarning that it is now track season so I will probably get busy again. **

**Plot is coming, I know this whole story can seem filler-ish... **

**Twenty-seven**

It was a day of firsts. The first time the Black Parade officially performed together, their first official performance with a record company, and the first time Sam didn't throw up before a show. BP was hoping it was a good omen.

"Hello!" Mikey was at the microphone. They were at a restaurant/bar that was featuring them as local talent. But Mikey had talked to the owners and told them they were officially part of a record company, so the job even paid.

"I'm here with a new band in town, The Black Parade! They've just officially signed with McKinley records and are set to record and release their first album soon. But tonight we're giving you all a chance to hear four songs never performed live before. All of them will be on the new album. So without further ado, I give you Liza Buchanan, Johnny Hamilton, Jesse Way, Cale McKnight, and Sam Robbins. The Black Parade, everybody!" He swept his hand out to the side and stepped off-stage.

The lights went out and the band took their positions.

"Is everyone ready?" Sam whispered

They all nodded. Then the lights went up. That was when Sam realized she didn't really know what to say.

"Hey everybody! This first song's an older one of ours. Some of you may know it. It's called 'Kill All Your Friends!'"

They finished that one and went right into the next song.

"And that was one of our new songs, 'Dead!' This next song we've got is called 'Mama,' and we've got Cale and Jesse here backing me on vocals."

After Mama, they slowed it down. "Here's one of our slower songs, 'I Don't Love You.'" Sam was beginning to get the hang of being the front man and having to announce everything.

The crowd was really getting into them by now. Especially the few teenagers in the crowd.

"Alright," Sam said. "We've got one last song for you tonight. It's called, 'Teenagers,' and it's a personal favorite of mine."

The crowd clapped like crazy after that one. Sam didn't know if she would say they went wild, but she was pretty sure that BP had gained a fan base by the end of the night. She thought at least ten people would buy their album.

* * *

It took them about thirty minutes to pack up all the equipment and get it loaded into the van. After that they set off to the hotel where they were going to be staying. There was a club nearby that they were going to hang out at that night.

Liza and Sam rushed out of the van as soon as Mikey put it in park and skipped up to the room they were sharing.

"What's the rush?" Jesse asked. They had climbed over him to get out the door.

"We have to get all pretty before we can go out," Liza told him.

Johnny stuck his head out the window. "I think you both look beautiful the way you are."

"Aw," Liza said at the same time Sam yelled, "Suck up!"

Laughing, the girls ran up to their room.

* * *

They emerged forty minutes later to find the guys in the lobby waiting. Cale was asleep in an armchair, drool running down the side of his mouth. Johnny and Jesse were entertaining themselves with rock, paper, scissors, while Mikey kept glancing at his watch. He looked up and saw Sam and Liza.

"Finally," he muttered.

"Hey, I heard that," Liza shot back.

Mikey shrugged. "Ready to go?"

"Whatever," Liza said.

"Cale. Um, Cale?" Sam shook his shoulder.

"Hm? Oh? Wha?"

"It's time to go," she said, fighting back giggles.

"Right. I was awake the whole time."

"Sure you were dude," Jesse said, clapping him on the shoulder as he and Johnny walked past.

The band piled into the van. Johnny and Jesse piled into the back with Liza between them. That left Sam and Cale to take the open middle seats and stretch out.

"You know, one of you could sit up here with me," Mikey called from the front. "Or are you boys too cozy back there if you know what I mean."

"Ah, jeez Mikey, ew!" Sam said, covering her ears. Cale and Liza laughed. Jesse and Johnny both turned red.

"Aren't we passed the point of being embarrassed?" Cale asked.

"Unless it's true," Liza said, with a big grin on her face.

"Okay, we're done!" Sam said. "I don't want to hear about this on my birthday! Let's just go party."

The van pulled up to the club then, and the group got out.

"Okay—no drinking, no drugs," Mikey said, racking his brain for other things he wasn't supposed to let them do as the responsible adult. "Uh, just don't do anything illegal or that will get published in a tabloid someday."

Liza rolled her eyes and grabbed Jesse and Johnny by the wrists once Mikey left to go get himself something.

"Let's go get a drink. Not drunk," she said, seeing Sam's face, "a drink. Just one." Liza sighed. "I won't ruin your birthday I promise."

"Whatever," Sam said, rolling her eyes and pretending to be annoyed, but she was smiling. "I'm going for soda myself. Oh wait, we don't have any money."

"Taken care of!" Mikey called out as he walked back towards them. He had been speaking with the bartender.

"You five don't have to worry about anything tonight."

"Nice!" Jesse said.

"In that case, let's go!" Johnny said. Liza and Jesse followed.

"What are we going to do about them once we actually get famous?" Sam mused.

"I don't know," Cale said. "But let's not worry about that yet. It's your eighteenth birthday. Let's have some fun!"


End file.
